3   1822  01329  8245 


LIBRARY 

UNIVERSITY  OP 
CALIFORNIA 
SAN  OIEQO 


3   1822  01329  8245 


f 


THE 

TURQUOISE   CUP 


J*// -I -^V^V 


THE  TURQUOISE  CUP 

AND 

THE  DESERT 


BT 

ARTHUR    COSSLETT  SMITH 

ILLUSTRATE  D 


NEfTTORK:  CHARLES  SCRIBNER'S  SONS 

4  fr"^"  _» 

1903 


Copyright)  1903,  by  Charles  Scribner's  Sons 
Published  February,  1903 


D.  B.  Updike,  The  Merrymount  Press.  Boston 


"KHADIJA  BELIEVES  IN  ME" 


CONTENTS 

I 
The  Turquoise  Cup  3 

II 

The  Desert  107 


THE 
TURQJUOISE  CUP 


THE   TURQJJOISE   CUP 


L  HE  Cardinal  Archbishop  sat  on  his 
shaded  balcony,  his  well-kept  hands 
clasped  upon  his  breast,  his  feet  stretched 
out  so  straight  before  him  that  the  pigeon, 
perched  on  the  rail  of  the  balcony,  might 
have  seen  fully  six  inches  of  scarlet  silk 
stocking. 

The  cardinal  was  a  small  man,  but  very 
neatly  made.  His  hair  was  as  white  as  spun 
glass.  Perhaps  he  was  sixty;  perhaps  he 
was  seventy;  perhaps  he  was  fifty.  His  red 
biretta  lay  upon  a  near-by  chair.  His  head 
bore  no  tonsure.  The  razor  of  the  barber 

[3  ] 


The  Turquoise  Cup 


and  the  scythe  of  Time  had  passed  him 
by.  There  was  that  faint  tinge  upon  his 
cheeks  that  comes  to  those  who,  having 
once  had  black  beards,  shave  twice  daily. 
His  features  were  clearly  cut.  His  skin 
would  have  been  pallid  had  it  not  been 
olive.  A  rebellious  lock  of  hair  curved 
upon  his  forehead.  He  resembled  the  first 
Napoleon,  before  the  latter  became  fa 
mous  and  fat. 

The  pigeon's  mate  came  floating 
through  the  blue  sky  that  silhouetted  the 
trees  in  the  garden.  She  made  a  pretence 
of  alighting  upon  the  balcony  railing, 
sheered  off,  coquetted  among  the  tree- 
tops,  came  back  again,  retreated  so  far  that 
she  was  merely  a  white  speck  against  the 
blue  vault,  and  then,  true  to  her  sex,  hav 
ing  proved  her  liberty  only  to  tire  of  it, 
with  a  flight  so  swift  that  the  eye  could 
scarcely  follow  her,  she  came  back  again 

[4] 


The  Turquoise  Cup 


and  rested  upon  the  farther  end  of  the 
balcony,  where  she  immediately  began  to 
preen  herself  and  to  affecl  an  air  of  non 
chalance  and  virtue. 

Her  mate  lazily  opened  one  eye,  which 
regarded  her  for  a  moment,  and  then 
closed  with  a  wink. 

"Ah,  my  friends,"  said  the  cardinal, 
"there  are  days  when  you  make  me  re 
gret  that  I  am  not  of  the  world,  but  this  is 
not  one  of  them.  You  have  quarrelled,  I 
perceive.  When  you  build  your  nest  down 
yonder  in  the  cote,  I  envy  you.  When 
you  are  giving  up  your  lives  to  feeding 
your  children,  I  envy  you.  I  watch  your 
flights  for  food  for  them.  I  say  to  myself, 
'  I,  too,  would  struggle  to  keep  a  child,  if 
I  had  one.  Commerce,  invention,  specu 
lation —  why  could  I  not  succeed  in  one 
of  these?  I  have  arrived  in  the  most  in 
tricate  profession  of  all.  I  am  a  cardinal 

[5] 


The  Turquoise  Cup 


archbishop.  Could  I  not  have  been  a  stock 
broker?  '  Ah,  signore  and  signora,"  and  he 
bowed  to  the  pigeons,  "you  get  nearer 
heaven  than  we  poor  mortals.  Have  you 
learned  nothing  —  have  you  heard  no 
whisper — have  you  no  message  for  me? " 

"Your  eminence,"  said  a  servant  who 
came  upon  the  balcony,  a  silver  tray  in 
his  hand,  "a  visitor." 

The  cardinal  took  the  card  and  read  it 
aloud  — "The  Earl  of  Vauxhall." 

He  sat  silent  a  moment,  thinking.  "I 
do  not  know  him,"  he  said  at  length ; "  but 
show  him  up." 

He  put  on  his  biretta,  assumed  a  more 
ere<5r.  attitude,  and  then  turned  to  the 
pigeons. 

"Adieu,"  he  said;  " commercialism  ap 
proaches  in  the  person  of  an  Englishman. 
He  comes  either  to  buy  or  to  sell.  You 
have  nothing  in  common  with  him.  Fly 
[6] 


'The  Turquoise  Cup 


away  to  the  Piazza,  but  come  back  to 
morrow.  If  you  do  not,  I  shall  miss  you 
sorely." 

The  curtains  parted,  and  the  servant 
announced, "The  Earl  of  Vauxhall." 

The  cardinal  rose  from  his  chair. 

A  young  man  stepped  upon  the  bal 
cony.  He  was  tall  and  lithe  and  blond, 
and  six-and-twenty. 

"Your  grace,"  he  said,  "I  have  come 
because  I  am  in  deep  trouble." 

"In  that  event, "said  the  cardinal, "you 
do  me  much  honor.  My  vocation  is  to 
seek  out  those  who  are  in  trouble.  When 
they  seek  me  it  argues  that  I  am  not  un 
known.  You  are  an  Englishman.  You  may 
speak  your  own  language.  It  is  not  the 
most  flexible,  but  it  is  an  excellent  vehicle 
for  the  truth." 

"Thank  you,"  said  the  young  man; 
"that  gives  me  a  better  chance,  since  my 
[7] 


The  Turquoise  Cup 


Italian  is  of  the  gondolier  type.  I  speak 
it  mostly  with  my  arms,"  and  he  began  to 
gesticulate. 

"  I  understand,"  said  the  cardinal,  smil 
ing,  "and  I  fear  that  my  English  is  open 
to  some  criticism.  I  picked  it  up  in  the 
University  of  Oxford.  My  friends  in  the 
Vatican  tell  me  that  it  is  a  patois" 

"I  dare  say,"  said  the  young  man.  "I 
was  at  Cambridge." 

"Ah,"  said  the  cardinal, "  how  unfortu 
nate.  Still,  we  may  be  able  to  understand 
one  another.  Will  you  have  some  tea?  It 
is  a  habit  I  contracted  in  England,  and  I 
find  it  to  be  a  good  one.  I  sit  here  at  five 
o'clock,  drink  my  cup  of  tea,  feed  the 
pigeons  that  light  upon  the  railing,  and 
have  a  half-hour  in  which  to  remember 
how  great  is  England,  and  "  —  with  a  bow 
—  "  how  much  the  rest  of  the  world  owes 
to  her." 

[8] 


T'/ie  'Turquoise  Cup 


"A  decent  sort  of  chap,  for  an  Italian," 
thought  the  earl.  The  cardinal  busied 
himself  with  the  tea-pot. 

"Your  grace,"  said  the  earl,  finally, 
"I  came  here  in  trouble." 

"It  cannot  be  of  long  standing,"  said 
the  cardinal.  "You  do  not  look  like  one 
who  has  passed  through  the  fire." 

"No,"  said  the  earl,  "but  I  scarcely 
know  what  to  say  to  you.  I  am  embar 
rassed." 

"My  son,"  said  the  cardinal,  "when 
an  Englishman  is  embarrassed  he  is  truly 
penitent.  You  may  begin  as  abruptly  as 
you  choose.  Are  you  a  Catholic?" 

"No,"  replied  the  earl,  "I  am  of  the 
Church  of  England." 

The  cardinal  shrugged  his  shoulders 
the  least  bit.  "I  never  cease  to  admire 
your  countrymen,"  he  said.  "  On  Sundays 
they  say,  'I  believe  in  the  Holy  Catholic 

[9] 


'T/ie  Turquoise  Cup 


Church,'  and,  on  work-days,  they  say,  'I 
believe  in  the  Holy  Anglican  Church.' 
You  are  admirably  trained.  You  adapt 
yourselves  to  circumstances." 

"  Yes,"  said  the  earl,  a  trifle  nettled,  "  I 
believe  we  do,  but  at  present  I  find  my 
self  as  maladroit  as  though  I  had  been 
born  on  the  Continent  —  in  Italy,  for  ex 
ample." 

"Good,"  laughed  the  cardinal;  "I  am 
getting  to  be  a  garrulous  old  man.  I  love 
to  air  my  English  speech,  and,  in  my  ef 
fort  to  speak  it  freely,  I  sometimes  speak 
it  beyond  license.  Can  you  forgive  me, 
my  lord,  and  will  you  tell  me  how  I  can 
serve  you?" 

"I  came,"  said  the  Earl  of  Vauxhall, 
"to  ask  you  if  there  is  any  way  in  which 
I  can  buy  the  turquoise  cup." 

"  I  do  not  understand,"  said  the  cardi 
nal. 

[  10] 


The  Turquoise  Cup 


"  The  turquoise  cup,"  repeated  the  earl. 
"The  one  in  the  treasury  of  St.  Mark's." 

The  cardinal  began  to  laugh  —  then  he 
suddenly  ceased,  looked  hard  at  the  earl 
and  asked,  "Are  you  serious,  my  lord?" 

"Very,"  replied  the  earl. 

"Are  you  quite  well?"  asked  the  car 
dinal. 

"Yes,"  said  the  earl,  "but  I  am  very 
uncomfortable." 

The  cardinal  began  to  pace  up  and 
down  the  balcony. 

"My  lord,"  he  asked,  finally,  "have 
you  ever  negotiated  for  the  Holy  Coat  at 
Treves;  for  the  breastplate  of  Charle 
magne  in  the  Louvre;  for  the  Crown 
Jewels  in  the  Tower?" 

"  No,"  said  the  earl;  "  I  have  no  use  for 

them,  but  I  very  much  need  the  turquoise 

)) 
cup. 

"Are  you  a  professional  or  an  amateur?" 


The  Turquoise  Cup 


asked  the  cardinal,  his  eyes  flashing,  his 
lips  twitching. 

"As  I  understand  it,"  said  the  earl, 
slowly,  a  faint  blush  stealing  into  his 
cheeks,  "an  'amateur'  is  a  lover.  If  that 
is  right,  perhaps  you  had  better  put  me 
down  as  an  'amateur." 

The  cardinal  saw  the  blush  and  his 
anger  vanished. 

"Ah,"  he  said,  softly,  "there  is  a  wo 
man,  is  there?" 

"Yes,"  replied  the  earl,  "there  is  a 
woman." 

"  Well,"  said  the  cardinal, "  I  am  listen 
ing." 

"  It  won't  bore  you? "  asked  the  earl. "  If 
I  begin  about  her  I  sha'n't  know  when 
to  stop." 

"  My  lord,"  said  the  cardinal,  "  if  there 
were  no  women  there  would  be  no  priests. 
Our  occupation  would  be  gone.  There  was 

[    12   ] 


The  Turquoise  Cup 


a  time  when  men  built  churches,  beautified 
them,  and  went  to  them.  How  is  it  now; 
even  here  in  Venice,  where  art  still  exists, 
and  where  there  is  no  bourse?  I  was  speak 
ing  with  a  man  only  to-day — a  man  of 
affairs,  one  who  buys  and  sells,  who  has 
agents  in  foreign  lands  and  ships  on  the 
seas;  a  man  who,  in  the  old  religious  days, 
would  have  given  a  tenth  of  all  his  goods 
to  the  Church  and  would  have  found  honor 
and  contentment  in  the  remainder;  but 
he  is  bitten  with  this  new-fangled  belief 
of  disbelief.  He  has  a  sneaking  fear  that 
Christianity  has  been  supplanted  by  elec 
tricity,  and  he  worships  Huxley  rather 
than  Christ  crucified — H  uxley ! "  and  the 
cardinal  threw  up  his  hands.  "  Did  ever  a 
man  die  the  easier  because  he  had  grov 
elled  at  the  knees  of  Huxley?  What  did 
Huxley  preach?  The  doclrine  of  despair. 
He  was  the  Pope  of  protoplasm.  He  beat 
[  -3  ] 


The  Turquoise  Cup 


his  wings  against  the  bars  of  the  unknow 
able.  He  set  his  finite  mind  the  task  of 
solving  the  infinite.  A  mere  creature,  he 
sought  to  fathom  the  mind  of  his  creator. 
Read  the  lines  upon  his  tomb,  written  by 
his  wife  —  what  do  they  teach?  Nothing 
but  'let  us  eat  and  drink,  for  to-morrow 
we  die.'  If  a  man  follows  Huxley,  then  is 
he  a  fool  if  he  does  not  give  to  this  poor 
squeezed-lemon  of  a  world  another  twist. 
If  I  believed  there  was  nothing  after  this 
life,  do  you  think  I  should  be  sitting  here, 
feeding  the  pigeons?  Do  you  think  —  but 
there,  I  have  aired  my  English  speech  and 
have  had  my  fling  at  Huxley.  Let  me  fill 
your  cup  and  then  tell  me  of  this  woman 
whom  I  have  kept  waiting  all  this  time 
by  my  vanity  and  my  ill  manners.  Is  she 
English,  French,  Spanish,  or  American? 
There  are  many  Americans  nowadays." 
"No,"  said  the  earl,  "she  is  Irish." 

[  H] 


The  Turquoise  Cup 


"  The  most  dangerous  of  all,"  remarked 
the  cardinal. 

"It  is  plain  that  you  know  women," 
said  the  earl. 

"  I  ?  "  exclaimed  the  cardinal. "  No ;  nor 
any  living  man." 

"  Her  father,"  resumed  the  earl, "  was  a 
great  brewer  in  Dublin.  He  made  ripping 
stout.  Perhaps  you  use  it.  It  has  a  green 
label,  with  a  bull's  head.  He  kept  straight 
all  through  the  home-rule  troubles,  and 
he  chipped  in  a  lot  for  the  Jubilee  fund, 
and  they  made  him  Lord  Vatsmore.  He 
died  two  years  ago  and  left  one  child.  She 
is  Lady  Nora  Daly.  She  is  waiting  for  me 
now  in  the  Piazza." 

"  Perhaps  I  am  detaining  you? "  said  the 
cardinal. 

"By  no  means,"  replied  the  earl.  "I 
don't  dare  to  go  back  just  yet.  I  met  her 
first  at  home,  last  season.  I've  followed  her 
[  '5  ] 


"The  Turquoise  Cup 


about  like  a  spaniel  ever  since.  I  started  in 
for  a  lark,  and  now  I  'm  in  for  keeps.  She 
has  a  peculiar  way  with  her,"  continued 
the  earl,  smoothing  his  hat;  "  one  minute 
you  think  you  are  great  chums  and,  the 
next,  you  wonder  if  you  have  ever  been 
presented." 

"  I  recognize  the  Irish  variety,"  said  the 
cardinal. 

"  She  is  here  with  her  yacht,"  continued 
the  earl.  "  Her  aunt  is  with  her.  The  aunt 
is  a  good  sort.  I  am  sure  you  would  like 
her." 

"Doubtless,"  said  the  cardinal,  with  a 
shrug;  "but  have  you  nothing  more  to  say 
about  the  niece  ? " 

"I  followed  her  here,"  continued  the 
earl,  his  hands  still  busy  with  his  hat, "  and 
I  've  done  my  best.  Just  now,  in  the  Piazza, 
I  asked  her  to  marry  me,  and  she  laughed. 
We  went  into  St.  Mark's,  and  the  lights 

[  16] 


'The  Turquoise  Cup 


and  the  music  and  the  pictures  and  the 
perfume  seemed  to  soften  her.  '  Did  you 
mean  it?'  she  said  to  me.  I  told  her  I  did. 
'  Don't  speak  to  me  for  a  little  while,'  she 
said,  '  I  want  to  think.'  That  was  strange, 

5  .      •  ,    3  >J 

was  n  t  it  r 

"  No,"  said  the  cardinal, "  I  don't  think 
that  was  strange.  I  think  it  was  merely 
feminine." 

"We  came  out  of  the  church,"  con 
tinued  the  earl,  "and  I  felt  sure  of  her;  but 
when  we  came  into  the  Piazza  and  she  saw 
the  life  of  the  place,  the  fountain  playing, 
the  banners  flying,  the  pigeons  wheeling, 
and  heard  the  band,  she  began  to  laugh 
and  chaff.  'Bobby,'  she  said,  suddenly, 
'did  you  mean  it  ?' 

"'Yes,'  I  said,  '  I  meant  it.'  She  looked 
at  me  for  a  moment  so  fixedly  that  I  be 
gan  to  think  of  the  things  I  had  done  and 
which  she  had  not  done,  of  the  gulf  there 
[  -7] 


The  Turquoise  Cup 


was  between  us  —  you  understand?" 

"  Yes,"  said  the  cardinal, "  I  understand 
—  that  is,  I  can  imagine." 

"And  then,"  continued  the  earl,  "I 
ventured  to  look  into  her  eyes,  and  she 
was  laughing  at  me. 

"'Bobby,'  she  said,  'I  believe  I've 
landed  you.  I  know  you  're  a  fortune- 
hunter,  but  what  blame  ?  I  dare  say  I 
should  be  one,  but  for  the  beer.  I  'm  throw 
ing  myself  away.  With  my  fortune  and  my 
figure  I  think  I  could  get  a  duke,  an  el 
derly  duke,  perhaps,  and  a  little  over  on  his 
knees,  but  still  a  duke.  A  well-brought- 
up  young  woman  would  take  the  duke, 
but  I  am  nothing  but  a  wild  Irish  girl. 
Bobby,  you  are  jolly  and  wholesome,  and 
auntie  likes  you,  and  I'll  take  you  —  hold 
hard, 'she  said, as  I  moved  up  —  'I'll  take 
you, if  you'll  give  me  the  turquoise  cup.' 
'What's  that?'  I  asked.  'The  turquoise 


'The  Turquoise  Cup 


cup,'  she  said;  '  the  one  in  the  treasury  of 
St.  Mark's.  Give  me  that  and  Nora  Daly 
is  yours.'  'All  right,'  I  said,  'I  '11  trot  off 
and  buy  it.' 

"Here  I  am,  your  grace,  an  impecu 
nious  but  determined  man.  I  have  four 
thousand  pounds  at  Coutts's,  all  I  have 
in  the  world;  will  it  lift  the  cup?" 

The  cardinal  rubbed  his  white  hands  to 
gether,  uncrossed  and  recrossed  his  legs, 
struck  the  arm  of  his  chair,  and  burst  into 
a  laugh  so  merry  and  so  prolonged  that  the 
earl,  perforce,  joined  him. 

"  It 's  funny,"  said  the  latter,  finally, 
"but,  all  the  same,  it's  serious." 

"  Oh,  Love  !  "  exclaimed  the  cardinal ; 
"you  little  naked  boy  with  wings  and  a 
bow!  You  give  us  more  trouble  than  all 
the  rest  of  the  heathen  deities  combined 
-you  fly  about  so  —  you  appear  in  such 
strange  places  —  you  compel  mortals  to 

[  19  ] 


The  Turquoise  Cup 


do  such  remarkable  things  —  you  debauch 
my  pigeons,  and,  when  the  ill  is  done,  you 
send  your  victims  to  me,  or  another  priest, 
and  ask  for  absolution,  so  that  they  may 
begin  all  over  again." 

"  Do  I  get  the  cup ? "  asked  the  earl,  with 
some  impatience. 

"My  lord,"  said  the  cardinal,  "if  the 
cup  were  mine,  I  have  a  fancy  that  I  would 
give  it  to  you,  with  my  blessing  and  my 
best  wishes;  but  when  you  ask  me  to  sell  it 
to  you, it  is  as  though  you  asked  your  queen 
to  sell  you  the  Kohinoor.  She  dare  not,  if 
she  could.  She  could  not,  if  she  dare.  Both 
the  diamond  and  the  cup  were,  doubtless, 
stolen.  The  diamond  was  taken  in  this  cen 
tury;  the  cup  was  looted  so  long  ago  that 
no  one  knows.  A  sad  attribute  of  crime  is 
that  time  softens  it.  There  is  a  mental  stat 
ute  of  limitations  that  converts  possession 
into  ownership.  'We  stole  the  Kohinoor 
[oo] 


The  Turquoise  Cup 


so  long  ago,'  says  the  Englishman,  'that 
we  own  it  now.'  So  it  is  with  the  cup. 
Where  did  it  come  from?  It  is  doubtless 
Byzantine,  but  where  did  its  maker  live; 
in  Byzantium  or  here,  in  Venice?  We  used 
to  kidnap  Oriental  artists  in  the  good  old 
days  when  art  was  a  religion.  This  cup  was 
made  by  one  whom  God  befriended;  by  a 
brain  steeped  in  the  love  of  the  beautiful; 
by  a  hand  so  cunning  that  when  it  died  art 
languished;  by  a  power  so  compelling  that 
the  treasuries  of  the  world  were  opened 
to  it.  Its  bowl  is  a  turquoise,  the  size  and 
shape  of  an  ostrich's  egg,  sawn  through  its 
longer  diameter,  and  resting  on  its  side. 
Four  gold  arms  clasp  the  bowl  and  meet 
under  it.  These  arms  are  set  with  rubies  en 
cabochon,  except  one,  which  is  cut  in  facets. 
The  arms  are  welded  beneath  the  bowl 
and  form  the  stem.  Midway  of  the  stem, 
and  pierced  by  it,  is  a  diamond,  as  large" 


The  Turquoise  Cup 


—  the  cardinal  picked  up  his  teaspoon 
and  looked  at  it — "yes,"  he  said,  "as  large 
as  the  bowl  of  this  spoon.  The  foot  of  the 
cup  is  an  emerald,  flat  on  the  bottom  and 
joined  to  the  stem  by  a  ferrule  of  transpar 
ent  enamel.  If  this  treasure  were  offered 
for  sale  the  wealth  of  the  world  would 
fight  for  it.  No,  no,  my  lord,  you  cannot 
have  the  cup.  Take  your  four  thousand 
pounds  to  Testolini,  thejeweller,  and  buy 
a  string  of  pearls.  Very  few  good  women 
can  resist  pearls." 

"Your  grace,"  said  the  earl,  rising,  "I 
appreciate  fully  the  absurdity  of  my  er 
rand  and  the  kindness  of  your  forbearance. 
I  fear,  however,  that  you  scarcely  grasp 
the  situation.  I  am  going  to  marry  Lady 
Nora.  I  cannot  marry  her  without  the 
cup.  You  perceive  the  conclusion — I  shall 
have  the  cup.  Good-by,  your  grace;  I 
thank  you  for  your  patience." 

r «] 


The  Turquoise  Cup 


"Good-by,"  said  the  cardinal,  ringing 
for  a  servant.  "  I  wish  that  I  might  serve 
you ;  but,  when  children  cry  for  the  moon, 
what  is  to  be  done?  Come  and  see  me 
again;  I  am  nearly  always  at  home  about 
this  hour." 

"  I  repeat,  your  grace,"  said  the  earl, 
"that  I  shall  have  the  cup.  All  is  fair  in 
love  and  war,  is  it  not?" 

There  was  a  certain  quality  in  the  earl's 
voice  —  that  quiet,  even  note  of  sincerity 
which  quells  riots,  which  quiets  horses, 
which  leads  forlorn  hopes,  and  the  well- 
trained  ear  of  the  cardinal  recognized  it. 

"Pietro,"  he  said  to  the  servant  who 
answered  the  bell,  "I  am  going  out.  My 
hat  and  stick.  I  will  go  a  little  way  with 
you,  my  lord." 

They  went  down  the  broad  stairs  to 
gether,  and  the  earl  noticed,  for  the  first 
time,  that  his  companion  limped. 


'The  'Turquoise  Cup 


"Gout? "he  asked. 

"No,"  said  the  cardinal;  "the  indis 
cretion  of  youth.  I  was  with  Garibaldi 
and  caught  a  bullet." 

"Take  my  arm,"  said  the  earl. 

"Willingly,"  said  the  cardinal,  "since 
I  know  that  you  will  bring  me  into  the 
presence  of  a  woman  worth  seeing;  a  wo 
man  who  can  compel  a  peer  of  England 
to  meditate  a  theft." 

"  How  do  you  know  that? "  exclaimed 
the  earl;  and  he  stopped  so  abruptly  that 
the  cardinal  put  his  free  hand  against  his 
companion's  breast  to  right  himself. 

"Because,"  said  the  cardinal,  "I  saw 
your  face  when  you  said  good-by  to  me. 
It  was  not  a  pleasant  face." 


II 


T 


HEY  went  on  silently  and  soon  they 
came  to  the  Piazza. 

"I  don't  see  her,"  said  the  earl;  "per 
haps  she  has  gone  back  to  the  church." 

They  crossed  the  Piazza  and  entered 
St.  Mark's. 

"Not  here,"  said  the  earl. 

They  walked  up  the  south  aisle  and 
came  to  the  anteroom  of  the  treasury.  Its 
door  was  open.  They  entered  what  had 
once  been  a  tower  of  the  old  palace.  The 
door  of  the  treasury  was  also  open.  They 
went  in  and  found  the  sacristan  and  a  wo 
man.  She  held  the  turquoise  cup  in  her 
hands. 

"Did  you  buy  it,  Bobby?"  she  ex 
claimed. 

She  turned  and  saw  that  the  earl  was  not 
alone.  -, 


The  Turquoise  Cup 


"Your  grace,"  he  said,  "I  present  you 
to  Lady  Nora  Daly." 

She  bent  with  a  motion  half  genuflex 
ion,  half  courtesy,  and  then  straightened 
herself,  smiling. 

The  cardinal  did  not  notice  the  obei 
sance,  but  he  did  notice  the  smile.  It 
seemed  to  him,  as  he  looked  at  her,  that 
the  treasures  of  St.  Mark's,  the  jewelled 
chalices  and  patens,  the  agate  and  crystal 
vessels,  the  reliquaries  of  gold  and  pre 
cious  stones,  the  candlesticks,  the  two  tex- 
tus  covers  of  golden  cloisonne,  and  even 
the  turquoise  cup  itself,  turned  dull  and 
wan  and  common  by  comparison  with  her 
beauty. 

"  Your  eminence,"  she  said, "  you  must 
pardon  Bobby's  gaucherie.  He  presented 
you  to  me  and  called  you  'your  grace.' 
He  forgot,  or  did  not  know,  that  you  arc 
a  cardinal  —  a  prince  —  and  that  I  should 


'The  Turquoise  Cup 


have  been  presented  to  you.  Bobby  means 
well,  but  he  is  an  English  peer  and  a 
guardsman,  so  we  don't  expecl:  much  else 
of  Bobby." 

"  He  has  done  a  very  gracious  thing  to 
day,"  said  the  cardinal.  "  He  has  brought 
me  to  you." 

Lady  Nora  looked  up  quickly,  scenting 
a  compliment,  and  ready  to  meet  it,  but 
the  cardinal's  face  was  so  grave  and  so 
sincere  that  her  readiness  forsook  her  and 
she  stood  silent. 

The  earl  seemed  to  be  interested  in  a 
crucifix  of  the  eleventh  century. 

"While  my  lord  is  occupied  with  the 
crucifix,"  said  the  cardinal,  "  will  you  not 
walk  with  me?" 

"  Willingly,"  said  Lady  Nora,  and  they 
went  out  into  the  church. 

"  My  dear  lady,"  said  the  cardinal,  after 
an  interval  of  silence,  "you  are  entering 


The  Turquoise  Cup 


upon  life.  You  have  a  position,  you  have 
wealth,  you  have  youth,  you  have  health, 
and,"  with  a  bow,  "you  have  beauty  such 
as  God  gives  to  His  creatures  only  for 
good  purposes.  Some  women,  like  Helen 
of  Troy  and  Cleopatra,  have  used  their 
beauty  for  evil.  Others,  like  my  Queen, 
Margarita,  and  like  Mary,  Queen  of  the 
Scots,  have  held  their  beauty  as  a  trust  to 
be  exploited  for  good,  as  a  power  to  be 
exercised  on  the  side  of  the  powerless." 

"Your  eminence,"  said  Lady  Nora, 
"we  are  now  taught  in  England  that 
Queen  Mary  was  not  altogether  proper." 

"She  had  beauty,  had  she  not?"  asked 
the  cardinal. 

"Yes,"  replied  Lady  Nora. 

"She  was  beheaded,  was  she  not?" 
asked  the  cardinal. 

"  Yes,"  said  Lady  Nora, "  and  by  a  very 
plain  woman." 


The  Turquoise  Cup 


"There  you  have  it!"  exclaimed  the 
cardinal.  "  If  Elizabeth  had  been  beautiful 
and  Mary  plain,  Mary  would  have  kept 
her  head.  It  is  sad  to  see  beautiful  women 
lose  their  heads.  It  is  sad  to  see  you  lose 
yours." 

"Mine?"  exclaimed  Lady  Nora,  and 
she  put  her  hands  up  to  her  hat-pins,  to 
reassure  herself. 

"Yes,"  said  the  cardinal,  "I  fear  that 
it  is  quite  gone." 

Lady  Nora  looked  at  him  with  ques 
tioning  eyes.  "Yes,"  she  said,  "I  must 
have  lost  it,  for  I  do  not  understand  you, 
and  I  have  not  always  been  dull." 

"My  dear  lady, "said  the  cardinal,  "the 
Earl  of  Vauxhall  was  good  enough  to  pay 
me  a  visit  this  afternoon." 

"  Oh,"  exclaimed  Lady  Nora,  clapping 
her  hands,  "  if  I  only  could  have  been  be 
hind  the  curtains  !  What  did  he  say?" 


The  Turquoise  Cup 


"He  said,"  replied  the  cardinal,  "that 
he  had  asked  you  to  be  his  wife." 

"  Indeed  he  has,"  said  Lady  Nora, "  and 
so  have  others." 

"He  also  said,"  continued  the  cardi 
nal,  "that  you  had  promised  to  marry 
him  when  he  brought  you  the  turquoise 
cup." 

"And  so  I  will,"  said  Lady  Nora. 

"  He  proposed  to  buy  the  cup,"  con 
tinued  the  cardinal.  "He  offered  four 
thousand  pounds,  which,  he  said,  was  all 
he  had  in  the  world." 

"Good  old  Bobby!"  exclaimed  Lady 
Nora.  "  That  was  nice  of  him,  was  n't  it? " 
and  her  eyes  glistened. 

"Yes,"said  thecardinal/'thatwas  nice 
of  him;  but  when  I  had  explained  how 
impossible  it  was  to  sell  the  cup  he  bade 
me  good-by,  and,  as  he  was  going,  said, 
4 1  shall  have  it.  All  is  fair  in  love  and  war.' 

[30] 


'The  Turquoise  Cup 


I  feared  then  that  he  meant  to  take  the 
cup.  Since  I  have  seen  you  I  am  certain 
of  it." 

"What  larks!"  cried  Lady  Nora. 
"Fancy  Bobby  with  a  dark  lantern,  a 
bristly  beard,  and  a  red  handkerchief  about 
his  neck.  All  burglars  are  like  that,  you 
know;  and  then  fancy  him  creeping  up 
the  aisle  with  hisjohnnie — no,hisjimmy 
—  and  his  felt  slippers  —  fancy  Bobby  in 
felt  slippers  —  and  he  reaches  the  treasury 
door,  and  just  then  the  moon  comes  up 
and  shines  through  that  window  and  il 
luminates  the  key  in  St.  Peter's  hand,  and 
Bobby  says,  'An  omen,'  and  he  takes  out 
his  own  key-ring  and  the  first  one  he  tries 
fits  the  lock  and  the  door  flies  open,  and 
Bobby  lifts  the  cup,  locks  the  door,  goes 
down  to  the  steps  by  the  Doge's  palace — 
no  gondola  —  too  late,  you  know,  so  he 
puts  the  cup  in  his  teeth,  takes  a  header, 

[31  ] 


'The  Turquoise  Cup 


and  swims  to  the  yacht.  When  he  comes 
alongside  they  hail  him,  and  he  comes  up 
the  ladder.  'Where's  your  mistress?'  he 
asks,  and  they  call  me,  and  I  come  on  deck 
in  my  pink  saut  du  lit,  and  there  stands 
Bobby,  the  water  running  off  him  and 
the  cup  in  his  teeth. '  There 's  your  bauble,' 
he  says.  (Of  course  he  takes  the  cup  out 
of  his  mouth  when  he  speaks.)  'And  here 's 
your  Nora,'  I  say,  and  the  boatswain  pipes 
all  hands  aft  to  witness  the  marriage 
ceremony.  No,  no,  your  eminence,"  she 
laughed,  "it's  too  good  to  be  true.  Bobby 
will  never  steal  the  cup.  He  has  never 
done  anything  in  all  his  life  but  walk  down 
Bond  Street.  He's  a  love,  but  he  is  not 
energetic." 

"You  are  doubtless  right,"  said  the  car 
dinal,  "and  my  fears  are  but  the  timidity 
of  age;  still — " 

The  earl  joined  them.  He  had  just  giv- 

[3*] 


'The  Turquoise  Cup 


en  the  sacristan  ten  pounds,  and  had  en 
deavored  to  treat  the  gift  as  a  disinter 
ested  pourboire.  He  felt  that  he  had  failed; 
that  he  had  overdone  it,  and  had  made 
himself  a  marked  man.  The  sacristan  fol 
lowed  him  —  voluble,  eulogistic. 

"Tommaso,"  said  the  cardinal,  "this  is 
the  Earl  of  Vauxhall.  He  is  to  have  every 
privilege,  every  liberty.  He  is  to  be  left 
alone  if  he  desires  it.  He  is  not  to  be  both 
ered  with  attendance  or  suggestions.  He 
may  use  a  kodak ;  he  may  handle  anything 
in  the  treasury.  You  will  regard  him  as 
though  he  were  myself." 

Tommaso  bowed  low. Theearl  blushed. 

Lady  Nora  looked  at  her  watch. 

"Five  o'clock!"  she  exclaimed,  "and 
Aunt  Molly  will  be  wanting  her  tea.  The 
launch  is  at  the  stairs.  Will  you  come, 
Bobby  ?  And  you,  your  eminence,  will  you 
honor  me?" 

[33  ] 


The  Turquoise  Cup 


"  Not  to-day,  my  lady,"  replied  the  car 
dinal,  "but  perhaps  some  other." 

"To-morrow?"  she  asked. 

"Yes,"  said  the  cardinal. 

"Thank  you,"  said  Lady  Nora;  "the 
launch  will  be  at  the  landing  at  half-past 
four." 

"  Is  it  an  electrical  contrivance? "  asked 
the  cardinal,  with  a  smile. 

"Yes,"  replied  Lady  Nora. 

"Then,"  said  the  cardinal,  "you  need 
not  send  it.  I  will  come  in  my  barca.  Elec 
tricity  and  the  Church  are  not  friendly. 
We  have  only  just  become  reconciled  to 
steam." 

Lady  Nora  laughed.  "Good-by,"  she 
said,  "until  to-morrow,"  and  again  she 
made  her  courtesy. 

"Until  to-morrow,"  said  the  cardinal; 
and  he  watched  them  down  the  aisle. 

"Tommaso,"  he  said  to  the  sacristan, 

[34] 


The  Turquoise  Cup 


"give  me  the  turquoise  cup." 

Tommaso  handed  it  to  him,  silent  but 
wondering. 

"Now  lock  the  door,"said  the  cardinal, 
"and  give  me  the  key." 

Tommaso  complied.  The  cardinal  put 
the  cup  under  his  robe  and  started  down 
the  aisle. 

"Tommaso,"  he  said,  "you  are  now 
closed  for  the  annual  cleaning.  You  un 
derstand,  do  you  not?" 

"Perfectly,  your  eminence,"  replied 
Tommaso,  and  then  he  added — "When  a 
stranger  gives  me  two  hundred  and  fifty 
lire  it  is  time  to  lock  my  door." 

The  cardinal  went  out  of  the  church, 
the  turquoise  cup  under  his  cassock.  He 
crossed  the  Piazza  slowly,  for  he  was  both 
limping  and  thinking.  He  came  to  the 
shop  of  Testolini,  the  jeweller,  under  the 
North  arcade,  paused  a  moment,  and 

[35  ] 


'The  ^Turquoise  Cup 


entered.  The  clerks  behind  the  counters 
sprang  to  their  feet  and  bowed  low. 

"Signer  Testolini?"  asked  the  cardi 
nal;  "is  he  within?" 

"Yes,  your  eminence,"  said  the  head 
clerk.  "He  is  in  his  bureau.  I  will  sum 
mon  him." 

"  No,"  said  the  cardinal, "  if  he  is  alone 
I  will  go  in; "  and  he  opened  the  door  at 
the  back  of  the  shop  and  closed  it  behind 
him.  In  ten  minutes  he  came  out  again. 
Signor  Testolini  followed,  rubbing  his 
hands  and  bowing  at  each  step. 

"Perfectly,  your  eminence,"  he  said. 
"I  quite  understand." 

"  It  must  be  in  my  hands  in  ten  days," 
said  the  cardinal. 

"Ten  days!"  exclaimed  Testolini; 
"impossible." 

"  What  is  that  strange  word? "  said  the 
cardinal;  "it  must  be  a  vulgarism  of  New 

[36] 


The  Turquoise  Cup 


Italy,  that '  impossible.'  I  do  not  like  it  and 
I  will  thank  you  not  to  use  it  again  when 
speaking  to  me.  In  ten  days,  Signore." 

"Yes,  your  eminence,"  said  Testolini, 
"but  it  will  be  in  the  afternoon." 

"In  ten  days,"  said  the  cardinal,  very 
quietly. 

"Yes,  your  eminence,"  said  Testolini. 

"  He  looks  like  Napoleon,"  whispered 
the  head  clerk  to  his  neighbor. 

The  cardinal  went  limping  down  the 
shop.  He  had  almost  reached  the  door 
when  he  stopped  and  spoke  to  a  little  man 
who  stood  behind  the  show-case  in  which 
are  the  enamels. 

"Ah,  Signore!"  he  exclaimed,  "how 
come  on  the  wife  and  baby?  I  meant  to  see 
them  this  afternoon,  but  I  was  diverted. 
I  wish  you  to  continue  the  same  diet  for 
them  —  take  this"  —  and  he  fumbled  in 
his  pocket,  but  drew  a  blank. 

[37] 


The  Turquoise  Cup 


"  Signer  Testolini,"  he  said  to  the  mas 
ter  at  his  heels,  "  I  find  I  have  no  money. 
Kindly  loan  me  fifty  lire.  Here,"  he  said  to 
the  little  man,  and  he  slipped  the  money 
into  his  hand,  "plenty  of  milk  for  the 
child;"  and  he  went  out  of  the  shop. 

"That  was  not  like  Napoleon,"  said 
the  head  clerk;  and  then  he  added, "Oc 
casionally  one  meets  with  a  priest  who 
rises  superior  to  his  profession." 

The  little  man  behind  the  enamel  coun 
ter  said  nothing,  but  he  drew  his  hand 
across  his  eyes. 


[38] 


III 


A  HE  following  day  was  a  busy  one  for 
the  cardinal.  While  Pietro  was  shaving 
him  he  parcelled  out  the  hours. 

"What  time  is  it,  Pietro?"  he  asked. 

"Three  minutes  past  seven,  your  emi 
nence." 

"Good,"  said  the  cardinal;  "at  half- 
past  I  make  my  mass;  at  eight,  I  take  my 
coffee;  from  eight  to  ten,  my  poor  —  by 
the  way,  Pietro,  is  there  any  money  in  the 
house?" 

"Yes,  your  eminence,"  said  Pietro; 
"there  are  eight  hundred  lire  in  your 
desk." 

"  Take  fifty  of  them  to  Signer  Testolini, 
in  the  Piazza,  with  my  thanks,"  said  the 
cardinal,  "and  put  the  rest  in  my  purse. 
Where  was  I,  Pietro?" 

[39] 


The  Turquoise  Cup 


"Your  eminence  had  reached  ten 
o'clock,"  replied  Pietro. 

"From  ten  to  eleven,"  continued  the 
cardinal,  "audience  for  the  laity;  from 
eleven  to  half-past,  audience  for  the 
clergy;  half-past  eleven,  my  egg  and  a 
salad.  Keep  all  who  look  hungry,  Pietro, 
and  ask  them  to  take  dejeuner  with  me;  at 
twelve,  see  the  architect  who  is  restoring 
the  altar-rail  at  St.  Margaret's;  take  time 
to  write  to  the  Superior  at  St.  Lazzaro  in 
reference  to  the  proof-sheets  of  the  'Life 
of  Eusebius ' ;  from  one  to  three,  my  poor 
—  we  must  get  some  more  money,  Pietro ; 
from  three  to  four — " 

"There,  your  eminence!"  exclaimed 
Pietro,  "I  have  cut  you." 

"  Yes,"  said  the  cardinal ;  "  I  was  about 
to  mention  it.  Where  was  I?" 

"Your  eminence  was  at  four  o'clock," 
replied  Pietro. 

[40] 


The  Turquoise  Cup 


"Four  o'clock  already!"  exclaimed 
the  cardinal,  "and  nothing  done;  from 
four  to  half-past  four,  interview  with  the 
treasurer  of  the  diocese.  That's  a  bad 
half-hour,  Pietro.  At  half-past  four  I  wish 
the  barca  to  be  at  the  landing.  Have  the 
men  wear  their  least  shabby  liveries.  I  am 
to  visit  the  English  yacht  that  lies  over 
by  St.  Giorgio.  You  must  dress  me  in  my 
best  to-day." 

"Alas,  your  eminence,"  said  Pietro, 
"your  best  cassock  is  two  years  old." 

"  How  old  is  the  one  I  wore  yester 
day?"  asked  the  cardinal. 

"Four  years  at  least,"  said  Pietro."  You 
have  your  ceremonial  dress,  but  nothing 
better  for  the  street." 

"I  caught  a  glimpse  of  myself  in  one 
of  Testolini's  mirrors  yesterday,"  said  the 
cardinal,  "and  I  thought  I  looked  rather 
well." 


'The  Turquoise  Cup 


"Your  eminence,"  said  Pietro,  "you 
saw  your  face  and  not  your  coat." 

"Pietro,"  said  the  cardinal, rising,  "you 
should  have  turned  your  hand  to  diplo 
macy;  you  would  have  gone  far." 

At  half-past  four  o'clock  the  cardinal's 
barca  drew  up  to  the  molo.  The  oarsmen 
were  dressed  in  black,  save  that  their  sashes 
and  stockings  were  scarlet.  The  bowman 
landed.  It  was  as  though  a  footman  came 
off  the  box  of  a  brougham  and  waited  on 
the  curb.  While  the  figures  on  the  clock- 
tower  were  still  striking  the  half-hour,  the 
cardinal  came  limping  across  the  Piazza. 
The  gondoliers  at  the  molo  took  off  their 
hats  and  drew  up  in  two  lines.  The  car 
dinal  passed  between  them,  looking  each 
man  in  the  face.  He  beckoned  to  one, 
who  left  the  ranks  and  came  up  to  him, 
awkward  and  sheepish. 

"Emilio,"  said  the  cardinal,  "I  have 


The  Turquoise  Cup 


arranged  your  matter.  You  are  to  pay  four 
lire  a  week,  and  are  to  keep  out  of  the 
wine-shops.  Mind,  now,  no  drinking." 
To  another  he  said,  "I  have  looked  into 
your  case,  Marco.  You  are  perfectly  right. 
I  have  employed  counsel  for  you.  Attend 
to  your  business  and  forget  your  trouble. 
It  is  my  trouble,  now."  To  a  man  to  whom 
he  beckoned  next  he  spoke  differently. 
"How  dare  you  send  me  such  a  peti 
tion?"  he  exclaimed.  "It  was  false  from 
beginning  to  end.  You  never  served  in 
the  legion.  The  woman  you  complain  of 
is  your  lawful  wife.  You  married  her  in 
Padua  ten  years  ago.  You  have  been  im 
prisoned  for  petit  theft.  You  got  your  gon 
dolier's  license  by  false  pretences.  Mark 
you,  friends,"  he  said,  turning,  "here  is 
one  of  your  mates  who  will  bear  watch 
ing.  When  he  slips,  come  to  me,"  and 
he  stepped  into  his  barca. 
[43  ] 


The  Turquoise  Cup 


"To  the  English  yacht,"  he  said. 

When  they  arrived  they  found  the 
Tara  dressed  in  flags,  from  truck  to  deck; 
Lady  Nora  stood  on  the  platform  of  the 
boarding-stairs,  and  the  crew  were  mus 
tered  amidships. 

"Your  eminence,"  cried  Lady  Nora, 
"you  should  have  a  salute  if  I  knew  the 
proper  number  of  guns." 

"My  dear  lady,"  said  the  cardinal, 
taking  off  his  hat,  "the  Church  militant 
does  not  burn  gunpowder,  it  fights  hand 
to  hand.  Come  for  me  at  six,"  he  said  to 
his  poppe. 

"Surely,"  said  Lady  Nora,  "you  will 
dine  with  us.  We  have  ices  with  the  Papal 
colors,  and  we  have  a  little  box  for  Peter's 
pence,  to  be  passed  with  the  coffee.  I  shall 
be  much  disappointed  if  you  do  not  dine 
with  us." 

"  Wait !  "called  thecardinal  to  his  barca. 

[44] 


The  Turquoise  Cup 


The  oarsmen  put  about. "  Tell  Pietro,"  he 
said,  "to  feed  the  pigeons  as  usual.  Tell 
him  to  lay  crumbs  on  the  balcony  railing, 
and  if  the  cock  bird  is  too  greedy,  to  drive 
him  away  and  give  the  hen  an  opportu 
nity.  Come  for  me  at  nine." 

"Thank  you,"  said  Lady  Nora;  "your 
poor  are  now  provided  for." 

"Alas,  no,"  said  the  cardinal;  "my  pi 
geons  are  my  aristocratic  acquaintance. 
They  would  leave  me  if  I  did  not  feed 
them.  My  real  poor  have  two  legs,  like  the 
pigeons,  but  God  gave  them  no  feathers. 
They  are  the  misbegotten,  the  maladroit, 
the  unlucky,  —  I  stand  by  that  word, — 
the  halt,  the  blind,  those  with  consciences 
too  tender  to  make  their  way,  reduced 
gentlefolk,  those  who  have  given  their 
lives  for  the  public  good  and  are  now  for 
gotten,  all  these  are  my  poor,  and  they 
honor  me  by  their  acquaintance.  My 

[45] 


'The  Turquoise  Cup 


pigeons  fly  to  my  balcony.  My  poor  never 
come  near  me.  I  am  obliged,  humbly,  to 
go  to  them." 

"Will  money  help?"  exclaimed  Lady 
Nora;  "  I  have  a  balance  at  my  banker's." 

"No,  no,  my  lady,"  said  the  cardinal; 
"  money  can  no  more  buy  offpoverty  than 
it  can  buy  off  the  bubonic  plague.  Both 
are  diseases.  God  sent  them  and  He  alone 
can  abate  them.  At  His  next  coming  there 
will  be  strange  sights.  Some  princes  and 
some  poor  men  will  be  astonished." 

Just  then,  a  woman,  short,  plump,  red- 
cheeked  and  smiling,  came  toward  them. 
She  was  no  longer  young,  but  she  did  not 
know  it. 

"  Your  eminence,"  said  Lady  Nora,  "  I 
present  my  aunt,  Miss  O'Kelly." 

Miss  O'Kelly  sank  so  low  that  her  skirts 
made  what  children  call  "a  cheese"  on 
the  white  deck. 

[46] 


The  Turquoise  Cup 


"Your  imminence,"  she  said,  slowly 
rising,  "sure  this  is  the  proud  day  for 
Nora,  the  Tara,  and  meself." 

"And  for  me,  also,"  said  the  cardinal. 
"  From  now  until  nine  o'clock  I  shall  air 
my  English  speech,  and  I  shall  have  two 
amiable  and  friendly  critics  to  correcl:  my 
mistakes." 

"Ah,  your  imminence,"  laughed  Miss 
O'Kelly,  "I  don't  speak  English.  I  speak 
County  Clare." 

"County  Clare!"  exclaimed  the  car 
dinal;  "then  you  know  Ennis?  Fifty  odd 
years  ago  there  was  a  house,  just  out  of 
the  town  of  Ennis,  with  iron  gates  and  a 
porter's  lodge.  The  Blakes  lived  there." 

"I  was  born  in  that  house,"  said  Miss 
O'Kelly.  "  It  was  draughty,  but  it  always 
held  a  warm  welcome." 

"  I  do  not  remember  the  draught,"  said 
the  cardinal, "  but  I  do  remember  the  wel- 

[47] 


The  Turquoise  Cup 


come.  When  I  was  an  undergraduate  at 
Oxford,  I  made  a  little  tour  of  Ireland, 
during  a  long  vacation.  I  had  letters  from 
Rome.  One  of  them  was  to  the  chapter 
at  Ennis.  A  young  priest  took  me  to  that 
house.  I  went  back  many  times.  There 
was  a  daughter  and  there  were  several 
strapping  sons.  The  boys  did  nothing, 
that  I  could  discover,  but  hunt  and  shoot. 
They  were  amiable,  however.  The  daugh 
ter  hunted,  also,  but  she  did  many  other 
things.  She  kept  the  house,  she  visited 
the  poor,  she  sang  Irish  songs  to  perfec 
tion,  and  she  flirted  beyond  compare.  She 
had  hair  so  black  that  I  can  give  you  no 
notion  of  its  sheen;  and  eyes  as  blue  as 
our  Venetian  skies.  Her  name  was  Nora — 
Nora  Blake.  She  was  the  most  beautiful 
woman  I  had  ever  seen  —  until  yesterday." 
"She  was  my  mother!"  exclaimed 
Miss  O'Kelly. 

[48] 


The  Turquoise  Cup 


"And  my  grandmother,"  said  Lady 
Nora. 

The  cardinal  drew  a  breath  so  sharp 
that  it  was  almost  a  sob,  then  he  took 
Lady  Nora's  hand. 

"  My  child,"  he  said, "  I  am  an  old  man. 
I  am  threescore  years  and  ten,  and  six 
more,  and  you  bring  back  to  me  the  hap 
piest  days  of  my  youth.  You  are  the  im 
age  of  Nora  Blake,  yes,  her  very  image. 
I  kiss  the  images  of  saints  every  day,"  he 
added,  "why  not  this  one?"  and  he  bent 
and  kissed  Lady  Nora's  hand. 

There  was  so  much  solemnity  in  the  acl: 
that  an  awkward  pause  might  have  fol 
lowed  it  had  not  Miss  O'Kelly  been  Irish. 

"Your  imminence,"  she  said,  "since 
you've  told  us  your  age,  I'll  tell  you  mine. 
I'm  two-and-twenty  and  I'm  mighty 
tired  of  standin'.  Let's  go  aft  and  have  our 
tay." 

[49] 


The  Turquoise  Cup 


They  had  taken  but  a  few  steps  when 
Lady  Nora,  noticing  the  cardinal's  limp, 
drew  his  arm  through  her  own  and  sup 
ported  him. 

"I  know  the  whole  story,"  she  whis 
pered.  "You  loved  my  grandmother." 

"Yes,"  said  the  cardinal,  "but  I  was 
unworthy." 


[  jo] 


IV 


T 


HEY  had  their  tea,  two  white-clad 
stewards  serving  them.  The  cardinal  took 
a  second  cup  and  then  rose  and  went  to 
the  side.  He  crumbled  a  biscuit  along  the 
rail. 

"I  have  often  wondered,"  he  said,  "if 
my  pigeons  come  for  me  or  for  my  crumbs. 
Nora  Blake  used  to  say  that  her  poor  were 
as  glad  to  see  her  without  a  basket  as  with 
one.  But  she  was  a  saint.  She  saw  things 
more  clearly  than  it  is  given  to  us  to  see 
them." 

The  women  looked  at  each  other,  in 
silence. 

"  No,"  said  the  cardinal,  after  an  inter 
val,  "they  do  not  come;  they  are  as  sat 
isfied  with  Pietro's  crumbs  as  with  mine. 
Love  is  not  a  matter  of  the  stomach ; "  and 

[51  ] 


'The  Turquoise  Cup 


he  brushed  the  crumbs  overboard.  "Per 
haps  the  fishes  will  get  them,"  he  added, 
"and  they  will  not  know  whence  they 
came.  Anonymous  charity,"  he  contin 
ued,  coming  back  to  his  chair, "  is  the  best. 
It  curbs  the  pride  of  the  giver  and  pre 
serves  the  pride  of  the  recipient.  Open  giv 
ing  is  becoming  a  trade.  It  is  an  American 
invention.  Very  rich  men  in  that  country 
offer  so  much  for  an  objecl: — a  college  — 
a  hospital  —  a  library  —  if  some  one  else 
will  give  so  much.  The  offer  is  printed  in 
the  newspapers  of  the  land  and  its  origi 
nator  reaps  much  —  what  is  the  word  I 
wish? — acclaim?  no;  kudos?  no; — ah,  yes, 
advertisement;  that  is  the  word.  Thank 
God  that  charity  does  not  thus  masquer 
ade  in  Italy.  There  are  men  here,  in  poor 
old  Venice,  who  give  half  their  goods  to 
feed  the  poor.  Are  their  names  published? 
No.  The  newspapers  reason  thus — '  Here 


T'he  Turquoise  Cup 


is  a  gentleman;  let  us  treat  him  as  one.' 
We  have  no  professional  philanthropists 
in  Italy.  After  all,"  he  added,  "  mere  giv 
ing  is  the  lowest  form  of  charity.  If  all 
the  wealth  of  the  world  were  divided  the 
world  would  be  debauched.  Binding  up 
wounds,  pouring  in  oil  and  wine,  bringing 
the  wronged  man  to  an  inn,  giving  him 
your  companionship,  your  sympathy,  so 
that  he  shows  his  heart  to  you  and  lets 
you  heal  its  bruises  —  that  is  your  true 
charity." 

"That's  what  I'm  telling  Nora,"  ex 
claimed  Miss  O'Kelly;  "she's  forever 
drawing  checks.  There  was  my  nephew, 
Nora's  cousin,  Phelim.  He  gave  away  all 
he  had.  He  gave  it  to  the  piquet  players 
in  the  Kildare Club.  'Aunt  Molly,'  he  said 
to  me,  'piquet  has  cost  me  fifteen  thou 
sand  pounds,  and  I  am  just  beginning  to 
learn  the  game.  Now  that  I  know  it  a  bit, 
[S3  ] 


The  'Turquoise  Cup 


no  one  will  play  with  me.  Your  bread  cast 
on  the  waters  may  come  back,  but  it 's  ten 
to  one  it  comes  back  mouldy,  from  the 
voyage.'  Phelim  is  the  flower  of  the  fam 
ily,  your  imminence.  He  is  six  foot  three. 
He  was  out  twice  before  he  was  two-and- 
twenty.The  first  time  was  with  Liftennant 
Doyle  of  the  Enniskillens.  'T  was  about  a 
slip  of  a  girl  that  they  both  fancied.  The 
Liftennant  fired  at  the  word  and  missed. 
'Try  your  second  barrel,'  called  Phelim, 
'I'm  still  within  bounds'  (that's  pigeon- 
shootin'  talk,  your  imminence).  The  Lif 
tennant  laughed  and  the  two  went  off 
to  the  club,  arm  in  arm,  and  they  stayed 
there  two  days.  There's  waiters  in  theclub 
yet,  that  remembers  it.  The  next  time 
Phelim  was  out,  't  was  with  a  little  at 
torney-man  from  Cork,  named  Crawford. 
There  was  no  girl  this  time;  't  was  more 
serious;  'twas  about  a  horse  Phelim  had 
[  54] 


The  Turquoise  Cup 


sold,  and  the  little  attorney-man  had  served 
a  writ,  and  Phelim  went  down  to  Cork 
and  pulled  the  littleman's  nose.  Whin  the 
word  was  given  the  attorney-man  fired 
and  nicked  Phelim'sear.Phelimraised  his 
pistol,  slow  as  married  life,  and  covered 
the  little  man. '  Take  off  your  hat ! '  called 
Phelim.  The  little  man  obeyed,  white  as 
paper,  and  shakin'  like  a  leaf.  'Was  the 
horse  sound?'  called  Phelim.  'He  was,' 
said  the  little  man. '  Was  he  six  years  old?' 
called  Phelim.  'At  least,'  said  the  little 
man. '  None  of  your  quibbles,'  called  Phe 
lim.  'He  was  six,  to  a  minute,'  said  the 
little  man,  looking  into  the  pistol.  'Was 
he  chape  at  the  price?'  asked  Phelim. 
'  He  was  a  gift,'  said  the  attorney. '  Gentle 
men,'  says  Phelim,  'you  have  heard  this 
dyin'  confession — we  will  now  seal  it,' 
and  he  sent  a  bullet  through  the  attorney- 
man's  hat.  I  had  it  all  from  Dr.  Clancey, 

c  55] 


The  Turquoise  Cup 


who  was  out  with  them.  They  sent  Phe- 
lim  to  Parliament  after  that,  but  he  took 
the  Chiltern  Hundreds  and  came  home. 
He  said  his  duties  interfered  with  the 
snipe-shootin'.  You'd  like  Phelim,  your 
imminence." 

"I  am  sure  I  should,"  said  the  cardinal. 

"He's  in  love  with  Nora,"  said  Miss 
O' Kelly. 

"Ah,"  said  the  cardinal,  "  I  spoke  too 
quickly." 

Meanwhile  the  shadows  began  to  creep 
across  the  deck.  The  cardinal  rose  from 
his  chair. 

"At  what  hour  do  you  dine  ? "  he  asked. 

"  I  made  the  hour  early  when  I  heard 
you  order  your  barca  for  nine,"  said  Lady 
Nora;  "I  said  half-past  seven." 

"Then,"  said  the  cardinal,  "I  should 
excuse  you,  but  I  do  it  reluctantly.  I  am 
keeping  you  from  your  toilet." 
C  J6] 


The  Turquoise  Cup 


Miss  O'Kelly  laughed.  "Your  immi 
nence,"  she  said, "  when  a  woman  reaches 
my  age  it  takes  her  some  time  to  dress.  I 
told  you  I  was  two-and-twenty .  It  will  take 
my  maid  nearly  an  hour  to  make  me  look 
it,"  and,  with  a  courtesy,  she  went  below. 

Lady  Nora  stayed  behind.  "Your  emi 
nence,"  she  said,  "the  evening  will  be 
fine;  shall  we  dine  on  deck?" 

"That  will  be  charming,"  said  the  car 
dinal. 

"Whenever  you  wish  to  go  to  your 
room,"  said  Lady  Nora," you  have  but  to 
press  this  button,  and  the  head  steward 
will  come."  She  still  loitered.  "I  think 
it  very  likely,"  she  said,  hesitating,  "that 
the  Earl  of  Vauxhall  will  drop  in;  he 
often  does.  I  should  have  mentioned  it  be 
fore,  but  I  was  so  delighted  at  your  stay 
ing  that  I  forgot  all  about  him." 

"My  dear  lady," said  the  cardinal, "to 
[  57] 


The  Turquoise  Cup 


supplant  the  Earl  of  Vauxhall  in  your 
thoughts  is  great  honor." 

She  looked  at  him  quickly,  blushed, 
cast  down  her  eyes,  and  began,  nervously, 
to  play  with  a  gold  boat-whistle  that  hung 
at  her  belt.  When  she  had  exhausted  the 
possibilities  of  the  whistle  she  looked  up 
again,  and  the  cardinal  saw  that  there 
were  tears  upon  her  cheeks.  When  she 
knew  that  he  had  seen  them  she  disre 
garded  them,  and  threw  up  her  head, 
proudly. 

"  Yes,"  she  said, "  I  think  of  him  far  too 
often;  so  often  that  it  makes  me  angry,  it 
makes  me  ashamed.  He  is  an  earl;  he  is 
tall  and  straight  and  beautiful  and  clean, 
and  —  he  loves  me  —  I  know  it,"  she  ex 
claimed,  her  face  illumined;  "but  why," 
she  went  on,  "should  I  give  myself  to 
him  on  these  accounts?  Why  should  he 
not  earn  me?  Why  does  he  compel  me 

[58] 


'The  Turquoise  Cup 


to  so  one-sided  a  bargain?  I,  too,  am  tall 
and  straight  and  clean,  and  not  ill-favored, 
and,  in  addition,  I  have  that  curse  of  un 
married  women  —  I  have  money.  Why 
does  he  not  do  something  to  even  up  the 
transaction  ?  Why  does  he  not  write  a  page 
that  some  one  will  read?  Why  does  he  not 
write  asong  that  some  one  will  sing?  Why 
does  he  not  do  something  that  will  make 
the  world  call  me  his  wife,  instead  of  call 
ing  him  my  husband?  The  other  day,  when 
he  and  love  were  tugging  at  me,  I  told 
him  I  would  marry  him  if  he  brought  me 
the  turquoise  cup.  It  was  an  idle  thing  to 
say, but  what  I  say  I  stand  by.  I  shall  never 
marry  him  unless  he  brings  it  to  me.  You 
know  us  Irish  women.  We  have  our  hearts 
to  contend  with,  but  we  keep  our  word. 
I  set  my  lord  a  trivial  task.  If  he  really 
wants  me  he  will  accomplish  it.  I  am  not 
dear  at  the  price." 

[  59  ] 


The  Turquoise  Cup 


"With  true  love,"  said  the  cardinal, 
"I  do  not  think  there  is  any  question  of 
price.  It  is  an  absolute  surrender,  without 
terms.  I  say  this  guardedly, for  I  am  no  ex 
pert  as  to  this  thing  called  human  love.  I 
recognize  that  it  is  the  power  that  moves 
the  world,  but,  for  more  than  fifty  years, 
I  have  tried  to  forget  the  world." 

"Yes,"  cried  Lady  Nora,  "and,  but  for 
a  cruel  mistake,  you  would  have  married 
my  grandmother." 

"Yes,"  said  the  cardinal,  "but  for  a 
cruel  mistake." 

"The  mistake  was  hers,"  exclaimed 
Lady  Nora. 

The  cardinal  threw  up  his  hands.  "It 
was  a  mistake,"  he  said, "  and  it  was  buried 
fifty  years  ago.  Why  dig  it  up?" 

"Forgive  me,"  said  Lady  Nora,  and 
she  started  toward  the  hatch. 

"My  child,"  said  the  cardinal,  "you 

[60] 


The  Turquoise  Cup 


say  that  you  will  not  marry  his  lordship 
unless  he  brings  you  the  cup.  Do  you 
hope  that  he  will  bring  it?" 

She  looked  at  him  a  moment,  the  red 
and  white  roses  warring  in  her  cheeks. 
"Yes,"  she  said,  "I  hope  it,  for  I  love 
him,"  and  she  put  her  hands  to  her  face 
and  ran  below. 

"If  the  earl  is  the  man  I  take  him  to 
be,"  said  the  cardinal  to  himself,  "I  fear 
that  I  am  about  to  shut  my  eyes  to  a 
felony,"  and  he  pressed  the  eleclric  but 
ton  at  his  side.  The  head  steward  ap 
peared  so  quickly  that  he  overheard  the 
cardinal  say  —  "I  certainly  should  have 
done  it,  at  his  age." 


[61  ] 


A 


.T  six  bells  there  was  a  tap  on  the  car 
dinal's  door. 

"Come  in,"  he  said. 

The  head  steward  entered.  He  had  ex 
changed  the  white  duck  of  the  afternoon 
for  the  black  of  evening.  He  was  now 
the  major-domo.  He  wore  silk  stockings 
and  about  his  neck  was  a  silver  chain, 
and  at  the  end  of  the  chain  hung  a  key. 

"Your  eminence's  servant  has  come 
on  board,"  he  said. 

"Pietro?"  asked  the  cardinal. 

"I  do  not  know  his  name,"  said  the 
steward,  "but  he  is  most  anxious  to  see 
your  eminence." 

"  Let  him  come  in  at  once,"  said  the  car 
dinal.  The  steward  backed  out,  bowing. 

There  was  a  loud  knock  upon  the  door. 


The  Turquoise  Cup 


"Enter,"  said  the  cardinal.  Pietro  came 
in.  He  carried  a  portmanteau. 

"What  is  it?"  exclaimed  the  cardinal. 
"Is  any  one  dying?  Am  I  needed?" 

"No,youreminence,"said  Pietro, "the 
public  health  is  unusually  good.  I  have 
come  to  dress  you  for  dinner  with  the 
English." 

"They  are  not  English,"  said  the  car 
dinal ;  "they  are  Irish." 

"  In  that  event,"  said  Pietro,  "  you  will 
do  as  you  are." 

"  No,"  laughed  the  cardinal, "  since  you 
have  brought  my  finery  I  will  put  it  on." 

Pietro  opened  the  portmanteau  with  a 
sigh.  "I  thought  they  were  English,"  he 
said.  "The  Irish  are  as  poor  as  the  Ital 
ians.  If  I  dress  your  eminence  as  I  had 
intended  they  will  not  appreciate  it." 

"Do  not  fear,"  said  the  cardinal.  "Do 
your  best." 

[  63  ] 


'The  'Turquoise  Cup 


At  seven  bells  there  was  another  knock 
at  the  cardinal's  door.  Pietro  opened  it. 

"Shall  dinner  be  served,  your  emi 
nence?"  asked  the  head  steward. 

"Whenever  the  ladies  are  ready,"  re 
plied  the  cardinal. 

"They  are  already  on  deck,  your  emi 
nence." 

"At  once,  then,"  said  the  cardinal,  and 
he  went  up  the  companion-way,  lean 
ing  on  Pietro's  arm.  The  after-deck  was 
lighted  by  scores  of  incandescent  lamps, 
each  shaded  by  a  scarlet  silken  flower. 
The  table  stood,  white  and  cool,  glitter 
ing  with  silver  and  crystal.  In  its  centre 
was  a  golden  vase,  and  in  the  vase  were 
four  scarlet  roses.  The  deck  was  covered 
with  a  scarlet  carpet,  a  strip  of  which  ran 
forward  to  the  galley-hatch,  so  that  the 
service  might  be  noiseless. 

Lady  Nora  was  dressed  in  white  and 
[  64] 


T'he  'Turquoise  Cup 


wore  nojewels.  Miss  O'Kelly  was  partially 
clad  in  a  brocaded  gown,  cut  as  low  as 
even  the  indiscretion  of  age  permits.  A 
necklace  of  huge  yellow  topazes  empha 
sized  the  space  they  failed  to  cover. 

The  cardinal  came  into  the  glow  of  the 
lights.  His  cassock  was  black,  but  its  hem, 
its  buttons,  and  the  pipings  of  its  seams 
were  scarlet; so  were  his  stockings;  so  was 
the  broad  silk  sash  that  circled  his  waist; 
so  were  the  silk  gloves,  thrust  under  the 
sash;  so  was  the  birettina,  the  little  skull 
cap  that  barely  covered  his  crown  and  left 
to  view  a  fringe  of  white  hair  and  the  re 
bellious  lock  upon  his  forehead.  The  lace 
at  his  wrists  was  Venice  point.  His  pecloral 
cross  was  an  antique  that  would  grace  the 
Louvre.  Pietro  had  done  his  work  well. 

The  cardinal  came  into  the  zone  of 
light,  smiling.  "Lady  Nora,"  he  said. 
"  Ireland  is  the  home  of  the  fairies.  When 


'The  Turquoise  Cup 


I  was  there  I  heard  much  of  them.  Early 
in  the  morning  I  saw  rings  in  the  dew- 
laden  grass  and  was  told  that  they  had 
been  made  by  the  'little  people,'  dancing. 
You,  evidently,  have  caught  a  fairy  prince 
and  he  does  your  bidding.  Within  an  hour 
you  have  converted  the  after-deck  into 
fairy-land;  you  have  —  " 

Just  then,  out  of  the  blue  darkness  that 
lay  between  the  yacht  and  Venice,  burst 
the  lights  of  a  gondola.  They  darted 
alongside  and,  a  moment  after,  the  Earl 
of  Vauxhall  came  down  the  deck. 

"  Serve  at  once,"  whispered  Lady  Nora 
to  the  major-domo. 

"Pardon  me,  your  eminence,"  she  said, 
"you  were  saying  —  " 

"I  was  merely  remarking,"  said  the 
cardinal,  "that  you  seem  to  have  a  fairy 
prince  ready  to  do  your  bidding.  It  seems 
that  I  was  right.  Here  he  is." 
[66] 


T'he  T'urquoise  Cup 


Lady  Nora  smiled.  "What  kept  you, 
Bobby,"  she  said, "  a  business  engagement, 
or  did  you  fall  asleep?" 

"Neither,"  said  the  earl;  "I  lost  a  shirt- 
stud." 

"Your  eminence  is  served,"  said  the 
major-domo. 

They  stood  while  the  cardinal  said 
grace,  at  the  conclusion  of  which,  all,  ex 
cept  the  earl,  crossed  themselves. 

"Was  it  a  valuable  jewel,  my  lord?" 
asked  Miss  O'Kelly,  in  an  interval  of  her 
soup. 

"  No,"  said  the  earl ;  "  a  poor  thing,  but 
mine  own." 

"How  did  it  happen?"  asked  Miss 
O'Kelly;  "did  your  man  stale  it?" 

"  Dear,  no,"  said  the  earl ; "  it  happened 
while  I  was  putting  on  my  shirt." 

Miss  O'Kelly  blushed,  mentally,  and 
raised  her  napkin  to  her  face. 

[  67] 


The  Turquoise  Cup 


"It  twisted  out  of  my  fingers,"  con 
tinued  the  earl,  "  and  rolled  away,  some 
where.  I  moved  every  piece  of  furniture 
in  the  room;  I  got  down  on  all  fours  and 
squinted  along  the  floor;  I  went  to  the 
dressing-table  to  look  for  another;  my 
man,  after  putting  out  my  things,  had 
locked  up  everything  and  gone  to  his  din 
ner.  I  couldn't  dine  with  you,  like  free 
dom,  'with  my  bosom  bare'  —  " 

"No,"  said  Miss  O'Kelly,  glancing 
down  at  her  topazes,  "you  couldn't  do 
that." 

"Certainly  not,"  said  the  earl, "and  so 
I  put  on  my  top-coat  and  went  out  toTes- 
tolini's  in  the  Piazza,  and  bought  a  stud. 
I  was  lucky  to  find  them  open,  for  it  was 
past  closing  time.  They  told  me  they  were 
working  late  on  a  hurry  order.  I  put  the 
stud  in  my  shirt,  raced  across  to  the  molo, 
jumped  into  a  gondola, and  here  I  am.  Am 
[68] 


The  Turquoise  Cup 


I  forgiven?" 

"Yes,"  said  Lady  Nora ; "  you  were  only 
five  minutes  late  and  your  excuse  is,  at 
least, ingenious.  You  could  not  have  come 
unadorned." 

"Unadorned!"  exclaimed  the  earl;  "it 
was  a  question  of  coming  unfastened." 

Pietro  began  to  refill  the  cardinal's 
glass,  but  his  master  stopped  him.  Pietro 
bent  and  whispered.The  cardinal  laughed. 
"Pietro  tells  me,"  he  said,  "that  this  is 
better  wine  than  that  which  I  get  at  home 
and  that  I  should  make  the  most  of  it. 
The  only  difference  I  remark  in  wines  is 
that  some  are  red  and  some  are  white." 

"That  minds  me  of  one  night  when  Fa 
ther  Flynn  dropped  in  to  dine,"  said  Miss 
O'Kelly — "'twas  he  had  the  wooden  leg, 
you  remember,  Nora,  dear — and  he  and 
Phelim  sat  so  late  that  I  wint  in  with  fresh 
candles.  'I  call  that  good  whiskey,'  says 


The  Turquoise  Cup 


the  father  as  I  came  in.  ^  Good  whiskey?' 
exclaimed  Phelim;  'did  ever  you  see  any 
whiskey  that  was  bad'  'Now  that  you 
mintion  it,'  says  hisriverince,  'I  never  did; 
but  I've  seen  some  that  was  scarce.'  'An 
other  bottle,  Aunt  Molly,'  says  Phelim, 
'his  riverince  has  a  hollow  leg.'  When  I 
came  back  with  the  bottle  they  were  talk 
ing  to  a  little,  wild  gossoon  from  the  hills. 
He  was  barefooted,  bareheaded,  and  only 
one  suspinder  was  between  him  and  the 
police.  'Is  your  mother  bad?'  asked  his 
riverince.  'Dochtor  says  she'll  die  afore 
mornin','says  the  gossoon.' Will  you  lind 
me  a  horse,  Phelim?'  asked  his  riverince. 
'You  ride  a  horse,  with  that  leg!'  says 
Phelim.  'No,  I'll  drive  you,  in  the  cart;' 
and  he  went  off  to  the  stables.  In  five 
minutes  he  came  back  with  the  dog-cart 
and  the  gray  mare.  His  riverince  got  up, 
with  the  aid  of  a  chair,  the  little  gossoon 

[70] 


The  Turquoise  Cup 


climbed  up  behind,  and  the  gravel  flew  as 
the  gray  mare  started.  They  wint  a  mat 
ter  of  ten  rods  and  then  I  saw  the  lamps 
again.  They  had  turned,  and  they  stopped 
before  the  porch — the  gray  mare  on  her 
haunches. '  Phelim,'  I  says, '  what  ails  you, 
you've  a  light  hand  whin  you're  sober.' 
His  riverince  leaned  over  and  whispered 
—  'The  oil  cruet,  Miss  Molly,  and  don't 
let  the  gossoon  see  it.'  I  wint  in,  came 
out  with  the  cruet  in  a  paper,  and  handed 
it  to  him.  'All  right,  Phelim,'  he  says, 
and  the  gray  mare  started.  At  six  in  the 
mornin'  I  heard  the  gravel  crunch,  and  I 
wint  to  the  door.  There  stood  the  gray 
mare,her  head  down,  and  her  tail  bobbin'. 
'  You've  over-driven  her,  Phelim/  says  I. 
'  Perhaps,'  says  he,  '  but  I  knew  you  were 
sittin'  up  for  me.  The  curse  of  Ireland/ 
says  he,  'is  that  her  women  sit  up  for  hefr 
men.'  'How  is  the  poor  woman? '  I  says. 

[71  ] 


The  Turquoise  Cup 


'  She's  dead/  says  Phelim; '  Father  Flynn 
is  waiting  for  the  neighbors  to  come.' 
'And  the  little  gossoon?'  says  I.  Phelim 
leaned  down  from  the  dog-cart;  'Aunt 
Molly,'  says  he,  'we  can't  afford  to  keep 
what  we  have  already, can  we?'  'No,'  says 
I.  'Thin,'  says  Phelim,  'we  can  just  as 
well  afford  to  keep  one  more;  so  I  told 
him  to  come  to  us,  after  the  funeral." 

"I  don't  quite  follow  that  reasoning," 
said  the  earl. 

"I  am  more  sure  than  ever,  that  I 
should  like  Phelim,"  said  the  cardinal. 
"Why  do  you  not  have  him  on?" 

"He's  six  foot  three,"  explained  Miss 
O'Kelly;  "the  yacht  wouldn't  fit  him. 
He  couldn't  stand  up,  below.  There  is  six 
foot  seven  between  decks,  but  the  eleclric 
lights  project  four  inches.  Then  the  beds 
—  there  isn't  one  more  than  six  foot  six. 
We  had  Phelim  on  board  and  tried  him. 


The  'Turquoise  Cup 


He  stayed  one  night.  'Aunt  Molly,'  he 
said, in  the  mornin',  'Nora  has  a  beautiful 
boat,  plenty  of  towels,  and  a  gooo1  cook. 
I  should  like  to  go  with  you,  but  I  'm 
scared.  I  kept  awake  last  night,  with  my 
knees  drawn  up,  and  all  went  well,  but  if 
ever  I  fall  asleep  and  straighten  out,  I'll 
kick  the  rudder  out  of  her.'  We  could  n't 
have  Phelim  aboard,  your  imminence; 
he'd  cancel  the  marine  insurance." 

While  Miss  O'Kelly  had  been  running 
on,  the  cardinal  had  been  politely  listen 
ing.  He  had  also  been  discreetly  observ 
ing.  He  had  the  attribute  of  politicians 
and  ecclesiastics  —  he  could  exercise  all 
his  senses  together.  While  he  was  smiling 
at  Miss  O'Kelly  he  had  seen  Lady  Nora 
take  from  the  gold  vase  one  of  the  scarlet 
roses,press  it,for  an  instant,  to  her  lips  aricl 
then,  under  cover  of  the  table,  pass  it  to  the 
earl.  He  had  seen  the  earl  slowly  lift  the 

[73  ] 


The  Turquoise  Cup 


rose  to  his  face,  feigning  to  scent  it  while 
he  kissed  it.  He  had  seen  quick  glances, 
quivering  lips  that  half-whispered,  half- 
kissed  ;  he  had  seen  the  wireless  telegraphy 
of  love  flashing  messages  which  youth 
thinks  are  in  cipher,  known  only  to  the 
sender  and  the  recipient;  and  he,  while 
laughing,  had  tapped  the  wire  and  read 
the  correspondence. 

"It  is  all  over,"  he  said  to  himself. 
"They  are  in  love.  The  little  naked  boy 
with  the  bow  has  hit  them  both." 

Promptly  at  nine,  Pietro  announced 
the  barca.  The  cardinal  made  his  adieus. 
"  My  lord,"  he  said  to  the  earl,  "if  you 
are  for  the  shore,  I  should  be  honored  by 
your  company." 

"Thank  you,"  said  the  earl,  "but  I  or 
dered  my  gondola  at  ten." 

Lady  Nora  and  the  earl  stood  watch 
ing  the  cardinal's  lantern  as  it  sped  toward 

[74] 


The  Turquoise  Cup 


Venice.  It  was  soon  lost  in  the  night.  Lady 
Nora's  hand  rested  upon  the  rail.  The  earl 
covereditwithhisown.  Shedid  notmove. 

"  Have  you  bought  the  cup,  Bobby," 
she  asked. 

"Not  yet,"  he  answered,  "but  I  shall 
have  it.  The  treasury  is  closed  for  the  an 
nual  cleaning." 

"When  you  bring  it,"  she  said,  "you 
will  find  me  here.  I  should  like  you  to 
give  it  me  on  the  Tara.  There  is  your 
gondola  light.  Aunt  Molly  seems  to  be 
asleep  in  her  chair.  You  need  not  wake 
her  to  say  good-night." 

"I  sha'n't,"  said  the  earl. 

Herhandstill  rested  upon  therail  —  his 
hand  still  covered  hers.  She  was  gazing 
across  the  harbor  at  the  countless  lights 
of  Venice.  The  warm  night  breeze  from 
the  lagoon  dimpled  the  waters  of  the  har 
bor  until  the  reflected  lights  began  to 

[75] 


The  Turquoise  Cup 


tremble.  There  was  no  sound,  save  the 
tinkle  of  the  water  against  the  side  and  the 
faint  cry  of  a  gondolier,  in  the  distance. 

"Bobby,"  said  Lady  Nora,  finally,  "it 
is  nice  to  be  here,  just  you  and  I." 

He  made  a  quick  motion  to  take  her 
in  his  arms,  but  she  started  back.  "No, 
no,"  she  said,  "not  yet;  not  till  you  earn 
me.  There  may  be  many  a  slip  'twixt  the 
cup  and"  —  she  put  her  fingers  to  her 
lips. 

Miss  O'Kelly's  chin  fell  upon  her  to 
pazes  so  sharply  that  she  wakened  with 
a  start. 

"Nora,  darlin'?"  she  cried,  looking 
about  her. 

"  Here  I  am,"  said  Lady  Nora,  coming 
into  the  light. 

"Ah,"  said  her  aunt,"and  Lord  Robert, 
too.  I  thought  he  had  gone.  I  must  have 
had  forty  winks." 

[76] 


The  Turquoise  Cup 


"  I  was  only  waiting,"  said  the  earl, "  to 
bid  you  good-night." 

"An  Irishman,"  said  Miss  O'Kelly, 
"  would  have  taken  advantage  of  me  slum 
bers,  and  would  have  kissed  me  hand." 

"An  Englishman  will  do  it  when  you 
are  awake,"  said  the  earl. 

"That's  nice,"  said  Miss  O'Kelly ; "  run 
away  home  now,  and  get  your  beauty- 
sleep." 


[77] 


VI 


URING  the  following  week  the  car 
dinal  was  so  occupied  with  his  poor  that 
he  nearly  forgot  his  rich.  He  saw  the 
yacht  whenever  he  took  his  barca  at  the 
molo,  and  once,  when  he  was  crossing 
the  Rialto,  he  caught  a  glimpse  of  Lady 
Nora  and  her  aunt,  coming  up  the  canal 
in  their  gondola. 

As  for  the  earl,  he  haunted  St.  Mark's. 
Many  times  each  day  he  went  to  the  treas 
ury  only  to  find  it  locked.  The  sacristan 
could  give  him  no  comfort.  "Perhaps  to 
morrow,  my  lord,"  he  would  say  when 
the  earl  put  his  customary  question;  "it 
is  the  annual  cleaning,  and  sometimes  a 
jewel  needs  resetting,  an  embroidery  to 
be  repaired  —  all  this  takes  time  —  per 
haps  to-morrow.  Shall  I  uncover  the  Palo 

[78] 


The  Turquoise  Cup 


d'Oro,  my  lord,  or  light  up  the  alabaster 
column;  they  are  both  very  fine?"  And 
the  earl  would  turn  on  his  heel  and  leave 
the  church,  only  to  come  back  in  an  hour 
to  repeat  his  question  and  receive  his  an 
swer. 

One  day  the  earl  spoke  out  —  "Tom- 
maso,"  he  said,  "you  are  not  a  rich  man, 
I  take  it?" 

"My  lord,"  replied  Tommaso,  "I  am 
inordinately  poor.  Are  you  about  to  tempt 
me?" 

The  earl  hesitated,  blushed,  and  fum 
bled  in  his  pocket.  He  drew  out  a  hand 
ful  of  notes. 

"Take  these,"  he  said,  "and  open  the* 
treasury." 

"Alas,  my  lord,"  said  Tommaso,  "my 
virtue  is  but  a  battered  thing,  but  I  must 
keep  it.  I  have  no  key." 

The    earl    went    out    and    wandered 

[79] 


The  Turquoise  Cup 


through  the  arcades.  He  came  upon  Lady 
Nora  and  Miss  O'Kelly.  They  were  look 
ing  at  Testolini's  shop-windows.  Lady 
Nora  greeted  him  with  a  nod  —  Miss 
O'Kelly  with  animation. 

"I'm  havin'  a  struggle  with  me  con 
science,"  she  said. 

So  was  the  earl. 

"Do  ye  see  that  buttherfly?" continued 
Miss  O'Kelly,  putting  her  ringer  against 
the  glass;  "it's  marked  two  hundred  lire, 
and  that's  eight  pounds.  I  priced  one  in 
Dublin,  just  like  it,  and  it  was  three  hun 
dred  pounds.  They  don't  know  the  value 
of  diamonds  in  Italy.  I  've  ten  pounds  that 
I  got  from  Phelim  yesterday,  in  a  letther. 
He  says  there 's  been  an  Englishman  at  the 
Kildare  Club  for  three  weeks,  who  thought 
he  could  play  piquet.  Phelim  is  travellin' 
on  the  Continent.  Now,  the  question  in 
me  mind  is,  shall  I  pay  Father  Flynn  the 

[so] 


The  Turquoise  Cup 


ten  pounds  I  promised  him,  a  year  ago 
Easter,  or  shall  I  buy  the  buttherfly?  It 
would  look  illigant,  Nora,  dear,  with  me 
blue  bengaline." 

Lady  Nora  laughed.  "  I  am  sure,  Aunt 
Molly,"  she  said,  "that  Phelim  would 
rather  you  bought  the  butterfly.  I'll  take 
care  of  your  subscription  to  Father  Flynn." 

With  an  exclamation  of  joy,  Miss 
O'Kelly  ran  into  the  shop. 

"Nora,"  said  the  earl,  "the  treasury  is 
still  closed." 

"Oh,"  said  Lady  Nora,  "why  do  you 
remind  me  of  such  tiresome  things  as  the 
treasury?  Didn't  you  hear  Aunt  Molly 
say  that  Phelim  is  on  the  Continent?  I  hafl 
a  wire  from  him  this  morning.  Read  it; 
it's  quite  Irish." 

She  handed  the  earl  a  telegram. 

"Shall  I  read  it?"  he  asked. 

"Of  course,"  she  answered. 


T'/ie  Turquoise  Cup 


He  read  — "I'm  richer ,  but  no  shorter. 
Is  there  a  hotel  in  Venice  big  enough  to  take 
me  in?  Wire  answer.  PHELIM." 

"  Will  you  send  this  reply  for  me? "  she 
asked,  when  the  earl  had  read  Phelim's 
telegram. 

"To  be  sure  I  will,"  he  said. 

"How  many  words  are  there?"  she 
asked.  "I'll  pay  for  it." 

Thus  compelled,  the  earl  read  her  an 
swer —  "Come,  rich  or  poor,  long  or  short. 
Come.  NORA." 

The  earl  went  off  with  the  telegram, 
thinking. 

The  next  afternoon  the  earl  came  out 
of  the  church  —  his  fifth  visit  since  ten 
o'clock — and  there,  near  the  fountain, 
were  Lady  Nora  and  her  aunt.  The  earl 
marked  them  from  the  church  steps. 
There  was  no  mistaking  Miss  O'Kelly's 
green  parasol. 

[81] 


The  Turquoise  Cup 


This  time  Lady  Nora  met  him  with 
animation.  She  even  came  toward  him, 
her  face  wreathed  in  smiles. 

"Phelim  has  come!"  she  exclaimed. 

"Quite  happy  —  I'm  sure,"  said  the 
earl.  "He's  prompt,  isn't  he?" 

"Yes,"  said  Lady  Nora,  "he's  always 
prompt.  He  doesn't  lose  shirt-studs,  and 
he  never  dawdles." 

"Ah!"  said  the  earl. 

"Here  he  comes!"  exclaimed  Lady 
Nora,  and  she  began  to  wave  her  hand 
kerchief. 

The  earl  turned  and  saw,  coming  from 
the  corner  by  the  clock-tower,  a  man.  He 
had  the  shoulders  of  Hercules,  the  waist 
of  Apollo,  the  legs  of  Mercury.  When  he 
came  closer,  hat  in  hand,  the  earl  saw  that 
he  had  curling  chestnut  locks,  a  beard 
that  caressed  his  chin,  brown  eyes,  and 
white  teeth,  for  he  was  smiling. 


The  'Turquoise  Cup 


"Nora,"  he  cried,  as  he  came  within 
distance,  "your  friend  the  cardinal  is  a 
good  one.  He  puts  on  no  side.  He  had  me 
up  on  the  balcony,  opened  your  letter, 
took  out  the  check,  and  read  the  letter 
before  even  he  looked  at  the  stamped  pa 
per.  When  a  man  gets  a  check  in  a  letter 
and  reads  the  letter  before  he  looks  at 
the  check,  he  shows  breedin'." 

"The  Earl  of  Vauxhall,"  said  Lady 
Nora,  "I  present  Mr.  Phelim  Blake." 

The  two  men  nodded;  the  earl,  guard 
edly;  Phelim,  with  a  smile. 

"  I  think,  my  lord,"  said  Phelim,  "  that 
you  are  not  in  Venice  for  her  antiquities. 
No  more  am  I.  I  arrived  this  mornin'  and 
I've  been  all  over  the  place  already.  I 
was  just  thinkin'  that  time  might  hang. 
Twice  a  day  I've  to  go  out  to  the  yacht 
to  propose  to  Nora.  Durin'  the  intervals 
we  might  have  a  crack  at  piquet." 


The  'Turquoise  Cup 


The  earl  was  embarrassed.  He  was  not 
accustomed  to  such  frankness.  He  was 
embarrassed  also  by  the  six  feet  three  of 
Phelim.  He  himself  was  only  six  feet. 

"I  do  not  know  piquet,"  he  said. 

"Ah,"  said  Phelim,  "it  cost  me  much 
to  learn  what  I  know  of  it,  and  I  will 
gladly  impart  that  little  for  the  pleasure 
of  your  companionship.  I  will  play  you 
for  love." 

The  earl  took  counsel  with  himself — 
"So  long  as  he  is  playing  piquet  with 
me,"  he  said  to  himself,  "so  long  he  can 
not  be  making  love  to  Nora." 

"  How  long  will  it  take  me  to  learn 
the  game?"  he  asked. 

"As  long,"  answered  Phelim,  "as  you 
have  ready  money.  When  you  begin  to 
give  due  bills  you  have  begun  to  grasp  the 
rudiments  of  the  game." 

"Then,"  said  the  earl,  "I  shall  be  an 

[85] 


The  Turquoise  Cup 


apt  pupil,  for  I  shall  give  an  I  O  U  the 
first  time  I  lose." 

"In  piquet,"  said  Phelim,  squaring 
himself,  and  placing  the  index  finger  of 
his  right  hand  in  his  left  hand,  after  the 
manner  of  the  didaclic,  "the  great  thing 
is  the  discard,  and  your  discard  should  be 
governed  by  two  considerations — first, 
to  better  your  own  hand,  and  second,  to 
cripple  your  opponent's.  Your  moderate 
player  never  thinks  of  this  latter  consid 
eration.  His  only  thought  is  to  better  his 
own  hand.  He  never  discards  an  ace.  The 
mere  size  of  it  dazzles  him,  and  he  will 
keep  aces  and  discard  tens,  forgetting  that 
you  cannot  have  a  sequence  of  more  than 
four  without  a  ten,  and  that  you  can  have 
one  of  seven  without  the  ace,  and  that  a 
king  is  as  good  as  an  ace,  if  the  latter  is 
in  the  discard.  I  am  speakin'  now,"  con 
tinued  Phelim,  "of  the  beginner.  Let  us 
[  86  ] 


The  Turquoise  Cup 


suppose  one  who  has  spent  one  thousand 
pounds  on  the  game,  and  is  presumed  to 
have  learned  somethin'  for  his  money. 
His  fault  is  apt  to  be  that  he  sacrifices  too 
much  that  he  may  count  cards.  I  grant 
you  that  you  cannot  count  sixty  or  ninety 
if  your  opponent  has  cards,  but  you  may, 
if  cards  are  tied.  When  I  was  a  beginner 
I  used  to  see  Colonel  Mellish  make  dis 
cards,  on  the  mere  chance  of  tyin'  the 
cards,  that  seemed  to  me  simply  reckless.  I 
soon  discovered,  however,  that  they  were 
simply  scientific.  One  more  thing — al 
ways  remember  that  there  is  no  average 
card  in  a  piquet  pack.  The  average  is  half 
way  between  the  ten-spot  and  the  knave. 
Now,  what  are  the  chances  of  the  junior 
hand  discardin'  a  ten  and  drawin'  a  higher 
card?  In  the  KildareClub  they  are  under 
stood  to  be  two  and  three-eighths  to  one 
against,  although  Colonel  Mellish  claims 

[  87  ] 


'The  Turquoise  Cup 


they  are  two  and  five-eighths  to  one.  The 
colonel  is  an  authority,  but  I  think  he  is 
a  trifle  pessimistic.  He — " 

"There,  Phelim,"  said  Lady  Nora,  "I 
think  that  is  enough  for  the  first  lesson. 
We  dine  at  eight.  If  Lord  Vauxhall  has 
nothing  better  to  do  perhaps  he  will  come 
with  you." 

"We'll  dine  on  deck,  Phelim,  dear," 
said  Miss  O'Kelly.  "You  won't  have  to 
go  below." 


[88] 


VII 

A  HE  next  morning  the  earl  went  to 
the  church,  as  usual.  He  had  not  slept 
well.  The  advent  of  Phelim  had  set  him 
to  thinking.  Here  was  a  rival;  and  a  dan 
gerous  one.  He  admitted  this  grudgingly, 
for  an  Englishman  is  slow  to  see  a  rival 
in  a  foreigner,  and  who  so  foreign  as  an 
Irishman? 

At  dinner,  on  the  yacht,  the  night  be 
fore,  Phelim  had  been  much  in  evidence. 
His  six  feet  three  had  impressed  the  earl's 
six  feet.  Phelim  had  been  well  dressed. 
"Confound  him,"  thought  the  earl,  "he 
goes  to  Poole,  or  Johns  &  Pegg.  Why 
doesn't  he  get  his  clothes  at  home?" 
Then  Phelim  had  talked  much,  and  he 
had  talked  well.  He  had  told  stories  at 
which  the  earl  had  been  compelled  to 

[  89] 


'The  Turquoise  Cup 


laugh.  He  had  related  experiences  of  his 
home-life,  of  the  peasants,  the  priests,  the 
clubs,  hunting  and  shooting,  his  brief  stay 
in  Parliament,  what  he  had  seen  in  Venice 
during  the  last  few  days;  and,  when  din 
ner  was  over,  Lady  Nora,  who  had  been 
all  attention,  said:  "  Sing  for  us,  Phelim," 
and  they  had  gone  below,  Phelim  stoop 
ing  to  save  his  head;  and  he  had  struck 
those  mysterious  chords  upon  the  piano, 
by  way  of  prelude,  that  silence  talk,  that 
put  the  world  far  away,  that  set  the  men 
to  glancing  at  the  women,  and  the  wo 
men  to  glancing  at  the  floor  and  making 
sure  of  their  handkerchiefs,  and  then  — 
he  had  sung. 

How  can  one  describe  a  song?  As  well 
attempt  to  paint  a  perfume. 

When  Phelim  finished  singing  Miss 
O'Kelly  went  over  and  kissed  him,  and 
Lady  Nora  went  away, her  eyes  glistening- 

[90] 


The  Turquoise  Cup 


The  earl  remembered  all  these  things 
as  he  went  up  the  aisle.  He  had  passed 
that  way  five  times  each  day  for  nine 
days.  He  came  to  the  door  of  the  treas 
ury,  thinking,  not  of  Nora,  but  of  Phelim 
—  and  the  door  was  open. 

He  went  in.  The  gorgeous  color  of 
the  place  stopped  him,  on  the  threshold. 
He  saw  the  broidered  vestments  upon 
which  gold  was  the  mere  background; 
jacinths  were  the  stamens  of  the  flowers, 
and  pierced  diamonds  were  the  dewdrops 
on  their  leaves;  he  saw  the  chalices  and 
patens  of  amethyst  and  jade,  the  crucifixes 
of  beaten  gold,  in  which  rubies  were  set 
solid,  as  if  they  had  been  floated  on  the 
molten  metal; he  saw  the  seven-light  can 
delabrum,  the  bobeches  of  which  were 
sliced  emeralds,  and  then  his  eyes,  grop 
ing  in  this  wilderness  of  beauty,  lighted 
on  the  turquoise  cup. 

[  91  ] 


The  Turquoise  Cup 


"  My  God ! "  he  exclaimed,"she  is  right. 
She  is  selling  herself  for  the  most  beauti 
ful  thing  in  the  world.  To  steal  it  is  a 
crime  like  Cromwell's — too  great  to  be 
punished,"  and  he  put  out  his  hand. 

Then,  with  the  cup  and  Nora  within 
his  reach,  he  heard  a  still,  small  voice,  and 
his  hand  fell. 

He  began  to  argue  with  his  conscience. 
"Who  owns  this  cup?"  he  asked.  "No 
one.  The  cardinal  said  it  had  been  stolen. 
He  said  no  one  could  sell  it  because  no 
one  could  give  title.  Why,  then,  is  it  not 
mine  as  well  as  any  one's?  If  I  take  it, 
whom  do  I  wrong?  Great  men  have  never 
let  trifles  of  right  and  wrong  disturb  their 
conduct.  Who  would  ever  have  won  a 
battle  if  he  had  taken  thought  of  the 
widows?  Who  would  ever  have  attained 
any  great  thing  if  he  had  not  despised 
small  things?"  and  he  put  out  his  hand 

[  9*] 


The  Turquoise  Cup 


again;  and  then  came  surging  into  his 
mind  the  provisions  of  that  code  which 
birth,  associations,  his  school  life,  and, 
most  of  all,  his  mother,  had  taught  him. 
What  would  they  say  and  do  at  his  clubs? 
Where,  in  all  the  world,  could  he  hide 
himself,  if  he  did  this  thing?  He  turned 
and  fled,  and,  running  down  the  church 
steps,  he  came  face  to  face  with  Lady  Nora 
and  Phelim.  They  were  laughing  gayly; 
but,  when  they  saw  the  earl's  face,  their 
laughter  ceased. 

"Have  you  seen  a  ghost,  my  lord?" 
asked  Phelim.  ~ 

The  earl  did  not  answer;  he  did  not 
even  hear.  He  stood  gazing  at  Lady  Nora. 
For  one  brief  moment,  when  he  stood  be 
fore  the  cup,  he  had  questioned  whether 
a  woman  who  would  impose  such  a  con 
dition  could  be  worth  winning;  and  now, 
before  her,  her  beauty  overwhelmed  him. 
[  93  ] 


T'he  Turquoise  Cup 


He  forgot  Phelim;  he  forgot  the  passers- 
by;  he  forgot  everything,  except  the  wo 
man  he  loved — the  woman  he  had  lost. 

"  Nora,"  he  said, "  I  give  you  back  your 
promise.  I  cannot  give  you  the  cup." 

The  color  left  her  cheeksand  her  hands 
flew  up  to  her  heart— she  gazed  at  him 
with  love  and  pity  in  her  eyes,  and  then, 
suddenly,  her  cheeks  flamed,  her  white 
teeth  pressed  her  lower  lip,  her  little  foot 
stamped  upon  the  pavement. 

"Very  well,"  she  said,  "I  regret  hav 
ing  given  you  so  much  trouble; "  and  she 
went  toward  the  landing.  She  took  three 
steps  and  then  turned.  The  two  men  stood 
as  she  had  left  them. 

"Phelim,"  she  said,  smiling,  "you  would 
do  something  for  me,  if  I  were  to  ask  you, 
would  you  not?" 

"Try  me,"  said  Phelim.  "Would  you 
like  the  Campanile  for  a  paper-weight  ? " 

[94] 


The  Turquoise  Cup 


"No,"  she  said,  "not  that,  but  some 
thing  else.  Come  here." 

He  went  to  her,  and  she  whispered  in 
his  ear. 

"I'll  bring  it  you  in  half  an  hour, 
aboard  the  yacht,"  said  Phelim,  and  he 
started  across  the  Piazza. 

Lady  Nora  went  on  toward  the  land 
ing.  The  earl  stood  watching  her.  She  did 
not  look  back.  The  earl  looked  up  at  the 
clock-tower.  "In  half  an  hour,"  he  said 
to  himself, "  he  will  bring  it  to  her,  aboard 
the  yacht;"  and  he  turned  and  re-entered 
the  church.  He  went  up  the  aisle,  nodded 
to  the  sacristan,  entered  the  treasury,  took 
the  turquoise  cup,  came  out  with  it  in 
his  hand,  nodded  again  to  the  sacristan, 
went  down  the  steps,  crossed  the  Piazza, 
ran  down  the  landing-stairs,  and  jumped 
into  a  gondola. 

"To  the  English  yacht!"  he  cried. 
[  95  ] 


The  Turquoise  Cup 


He  looked  at  his  watch.  "It  seems," 
he  said  to  himself,  "that  one  can  join  the 
criminal  classes  in  about  six  minutes.  I  've 
twenty-four  the  start  of  Phelim." 

They  came  alongside  the  Tara,  and  the 
earl  sprang  up  the  ladder. 

"Lady  Nora?"  he  asked  of  the  quar 
termaster. 

"She  is  below,  my  lord.  She  has  just 
come  aboard,  and  she  left  orders  to  show 
you  down,  my  lord." 

"Me?"  exclaimed  the  earl. 

"She  didn't  name  you,  my  lord;"  said 
the  quartermaster,  "what  she  said  was  — 
'A  gentleman  will  come  on  board  soon; 
show  him  below." 

The  earl  speculated  a  moment  as  to 
whether  he  were  still  a  gentleman,  and 
then  went  down  the  companion-way.  He 
came  to  the  saloon.  The  door  was  open. 
He  looked  in.  Lady  Nora  was  seated  at 

[96] 


The  Turquoise  Cup 


the  piano,  but  her  hands  were  clasped  in 
her  lap.  Her  head  was  bent  and  the  earl 
noticed,  for  the  thousandth  time,  how 
the  hair  clustered  in  her  neck  and  framed 
the  little,  close-set  ear.  He  saw  the  pure 
outlines  of  her  shoulders;  beneath  the 
bench,  he  saw  her  foot  in  its  white  shoe; 
he  saw,  or  felt,  he  could  not  have  told  you 
which,  that  here  was  the  one  woman  in 
all  this  great  world.  To  love  her  was  a 
distinction.  To  sin  for  her  was  a  dispen 
sation.  To  achieve  her  was  a  coronation. 

He  tapped  on  the  door.  The  girl  did 
not  turn,  but  she  put  her  hands  on  the 
keys  quickly,  as  if  ashamed  to  have  them 
found  idle. 

"Ah,  Phelim,"  she  said, "  you  are  more 
than  prompt;  you  never  keep  one  wait 
ing,"  and  she  began  to  play  very  softly. 

The  earl  was  embarrassed.  Despite 
his  crime,  he  still  had  breeding  left  him, 
[97  ] 


The  Turquoise  Cup 


and  he  felt  compelled  to  make  his  pres 
ence  known.  He  knocked  again. 

"Don't  interrupt  me,  Phelim,"  she  said ; 
"this  is  my  swan-song;  listen;"  and  she 
began  to  sing.  She  sang  bravely,  at  first, 
with  her  head  held  high,  and  then,  sud 
denly,  her  voice  began  to  falter. 

"Ah,  Phelim, dear,"she  cried, "I've  lost 
my  love !  I ' ve  lost  my  love ! "  and  she  put 
her  hands  to  her  face  and  fell  to  sobbing. 

"Nora!"  said  the  earl.  It  was  the  first 
word  he  had  spoken,  and  she  raised  her 
head,  startled. 

"Here  is  the  cup,  Nora,"  he  said. 

She  sprang  to  her  feet  and  turned  to 
him,  tears  on  her  cheeks,  but  a  light  in 
her  eyes  such  as  he  had  never  seen. 

"Oh,  my  love,"  she  cried,  "I  should 
have  known  you'd  bring  it." 

"Yes,"  he  said,  "you  should  have 
known." 

[98  ] 


'The  Turquoise  Cup 


She  stood,  blushing,  radiant,  eager, 
waiting. 

He  stood  in  the  doorway,  pale,  quiet, 
his  arms  at  his  side,  the  cup  in  his  hand. 

"Nora,"  he  said,  "I've  brought  you 
the  cup,  but  I  do  not  dare  to  give  it  to 
you.  I  stole  it." 

"What?"  she  cried,  running  toward 
him.  She  stopped  suddenly  and  began  to 
laugh  —  a  pitiful  little  laugh,  pitched  in 
an  unnatural  key.  "You  shouldn't  fright 
en  me  like  that, Bobby, "she  said; "it  isn't 
fair." 

"It  is  true,"  said  the  earl;  "I  am  a 
thief." 

She  looked  at  him  and  saw  that  he  was 
speaking  the  truth. 

"No,"  she  cried,  "'tis  I  am  the  thief, 
not  you.  The  cardinal  warned  me  that  I 
was  compelling  you  to  this,  and  I  laughed 
at  him.  I  thought  that  you  would  achieve 

[99] 


The  Turquoise  Cup 


the  cup,  if  you  cared  for  me;  that  you 
would  render  some  service  to  the  State 
and  claim  it  as  your  reward — that  you 
would  make  a  fortune,  and  buy  it — that 
you  would  make  friends  at  the  Vatican 
—  that  you  would  build  churches,  found 
hospitals,  that  even  the  Holy  Father 
might  ask  you  to  name  something  with 
in  his  gift  —  I  thought  of  a  thousand 
schemes,  such  as  one  reads  of — but  I 
never  thought  you  would  take  it.  No, 
no;  I  never  thought  that." 

"Nora,"  said  the  earl,  "I  didn't  know 
how  to  do  any  of  those  things,  and  I 
didn't  have  time  to  learn." 

"  I  would  have  waited  for  you,  always," 
she  said. 

"I  didn't  know  that,"  said  the  earl. 

"  I  hoped  you  did  n't,"  said  Lady  Nora. 
"Come!"  and  she  sprang  through  the 
door.  The  earl  followed  her.  They  ran 


T'he  'Turquoise  Cup 


up  the  companion-way,  across  the  deck, 
down  the  boarding-stairs.  The  earl's  gon 
dola  was  waiting. 

"To  the  molo  in  five  minutes,"  cried 
Lady  Nora  to  the  poppe,  "and  you  shall 
be  rich." 

They  went  into  the  little  cabin.  The 
earl  still  held  the  cup  in  his  hand.  They 
sat  far  apart  —  each  longing  to  comfort 
the  other  —  each  afraid  to  speak.  Between 
them  was  a  great  gulf  fixed  —  the  gulf  of 
sin  and  shame. 

Half-way  to  the  landing,  they  passed 
Phelim's  gondola,  making  for  the  yacht. 
The  cabin  hid  them  and  he  passed  in  si 
lence. 

"I  sent  him  for  some  bon-bons,"  said 
Lady  Nora.  "I  did  it  to  make  you  jeal 
ous." 

They  reached  the  molo  in  less  than  five 
minutes  and  Lady  Nora  tossed  her  purse 


The  Turquoise  Cup 


to  the  oarsmen,  and  sprang  out. 

"Put  the  cup  under  your  coat,"  she 
said.  The  earl  obeyed.  He  had  stolen 
it  openly.  He  brought  it  back  hidden. 
They  crossed  the  Piazza  as  rapidly  as 
they  dared,  and  entered  the  church.  The 
sacristan  greeted  them  with  a  smile  and 
led  the  way  to  the  treasury. 

"They  haven't  missed  it  yet,"  whis 
pered  Lady  Nora. 

The  sacristan  unlocked  the  outer  and 
the  inner  door,  bowed,  and  left  them. 

Lady  Nora  seized  the  cup  and  ran  to 
its  accustomed  shelf.  She  had  her  hand 
outstretched  to  replace  it,  when  she  ut 
tered  a  cry. 

"What  is  it?"  exclaimed  the  earl. 

She  did  not  answer,  but  she  pointed, 
and  the  earl,  looking  where  she  pointed, 
saw,  on  the  shelf — the  turquoise  cup. 

They  stared  at  the  cup  on  the  shelf — 
[  102  ] 


The  Turquoise  Cup 


at  the  cup  in  Lady  Nora's  hand  —  and 
at  each  other  —  dumfounded. 

They  heard  a  limping  step  on  the  pave 
ment  and  the  cardinal  came  in.  His  face 
was  very  grave,  but  his  voice  was  very 
gentle. 

"  My  children,"  he  said, "  I  prayed  God 
that  you  would  bring  back  the  cup,  but, 
mea  culpa,  I  lacked  faith,  and  dared  not 
risk  the  original.  Would  God  let  Nora 
Blake's  granddaughter  make  shipwreck? 
The  cup  you  have,  my  child,  is  but  silver- 
gilt  and  glass,  but  it  may  serve,  some  other 
day,  to  remind  you  of  this  day.  Look  at  it 
when  your  pride  struggles  with  your  heart. 
Perhaps  the  sight  of  it  may  strengthen 
you.  Take  it,  not  as  the  present  of  a  car 
dinal,  or  an  archbishop,  but  as  the  wed 
ding-gift  of  an  old  man  who  once  was 
young,  and  once  knew  Nora  Blake." 

"A  wedding-gift?"  exclaimed  Lady 
[  I03  ] 


The  Turquoise  Cup 


Nora.  "What  man  would  ever  marry 
such  a  wretch  as  I?" 

"Nora!"  cried  the  earl;  and  he  held 
out  his  arms. 

"  My  pigeons  are  waiting  for  me,"  said 
the  cardinal;  and  he  went  away,  limping. 


[  104  ] 


THE 
DESERT 


THE   DESERT 


JT  AR  down  in  the  Desert  of  Sahara  is 
the  little  oasis  of  El  Merb.  It  is  so  small 
that  our  crude  atlases  miss  it.  It  has  but 
one  well,  and  the  fertile  land  is  not  more 
than  forty  rods  in  diameter.  It  has  a 
mosque,  a  bazaar,  a  slave-market,  and  a 
cafe.  It  is  called  by  the  traders  of  Biskra 
"The  Key  of  the  Desert."  It  is  called  by 
the  Mohammedan  priests  of  Biskra  "The 
Treasury  of  the  Desert."  It  is  called  by 
the  French  commandant  at  Biskra  "A 
place  to  be  watched."  The  only  com 
munication  between  El  Merb  and  Biskra 

c 


The  Desert 

is  by  camels,  and  Abdullah  was  once  the 
chief  caravan-master. 

Abdullah,  having  felt  the  humps  of 
his  camels,  turned  to  his  driver. 

"We  start  to-morrow,  AH,"  he  said; 
"the  beasts  are  fit." 

AH  bowed  and  showed  his  white  teeth. 

"To-morrow,"  continued  ^Vbdullah, 
"since  it  is  Friday;  and  immediately  af 
ter  the  middle  prayer.  I  hear  in  the  ba 
zaar  that  the  well  at  Okba  is  choked. 
Can  we  make  forty-two  miles  in  one  day, 
so  as  to  cut  Okba  out  ? " 

"We  can,"  said  AH,  "during  the  first 
three  days,  when  the  beasts  do  not  drink; 
after  that — no." 

"Good,"  said  Abdullah;  "I  will  make 
a  route." 

Some  one  plucked  at  his  sleeve  and  he 
turned. 

[  108  ] 


'The  Desert 

"  Sir,"  said  a  man  with  a  white  beard 
and  eager  eyes,  "  I  learn  that  you  start  for 
Biskra  to-morrow." 

"If  Allah  wills,"  said  Abdullah. 

"In  crossing  the  desert,"  said  the  old 
man, "  I  am  told  there  are  many  dangers." 

"  Friend, "said  Abdullah,  "in  sitting  at 
home  there  are  many  dangers." 

"  True,"  said  the  old  man ;  and,  after  an 
interval,  he  added,  "  I  think  I  may  trust 
you." 

Abdullah  shrugged  his  shoulders  and 
rolled  a  cigarette. 

"Would  it  please  you,"  said  the  old 
man,  "to  take  a  passenger  for  Biskra?" 

"At  a  price,"  replied  Abdullah,  strik 
ing  a  match. 

"What  is  the  price?"  asked  the  old 
man. 

"Do  you  pay  in  dates,  hides,  ivory,  or 
gold-dust?" 

[  I09  ] 


T'he  Desert 

"In  dust,"  replied  the  old  man. 

Abdullah  threw  away  his  cigarette.  "  I 
will  carry  you  to  Biskra,"  said  he,  "for 
eight  ounces,  and  will  furnish  you  with 
dates.  If  you  desire  other  food,  you  must 
provide  it.  You  shall  have  water,  if  I  do." 

"It  is  not  for  myself  that  I  seek  pas 
sage,"  said  the  old  man,  "but  for  my 
daughter." 

"In  that  event,"  said  Abdullah,  "the 
price  will  be  nine  ounces.  Women  cast 
responsibility  upon  me." 

"And  her  maid-servant?  "asked  the  old 
man. 

"Eight  ounces,"  replied  Abdullah. 

"It  is  all  I  have,"  said  the  old  man, 
"but  I  will  give  it." 

"  If  you  have  no  more,"  said  Abdullah, 
"Allah  forbid  that  I  should  strip  you.  I 
will  carry  the  two  for  sixteen  ounces." 

"Allah  will  make  it  up  to  you,"  said 


The  Desert 

the  old  man.  "If  you  will  deign  to  ac 
company  me  to  the  bazaar,  I  will  pay 
you  immediately." 

They  went  to  the  arcades  about  the 
square  and  entered  the  shop  of  Hassan, 
the  money-changer. 

The  old  man  pulled  at  his  girdle  and 
produced,  after  many  contortions,  a  purse 
of  gazelle  skin. 

"Friend  Hassan,"  he  said,  "I  wish  to 
pay  to  this,  my  son,  sixteen  ounces. 
Kindly  weigh  them  for  me." 

Hassan  produced  his  scales.  They  con 
sisted  of  two  metal  disks,  suspended  by 
silk  threads  from  the  ends  of  a  fern  stem. 
He  balanced  this  stem  upon  the  edge  of 
a  knife,  fixed  above  his  table.  In  one  of 
the  pans  he  placed  a  weight,  stamped 
with  Arabic  characters.  The  pan  fell  to 
the  table.  Hassan  produced  a  horn  spoon, 
which  he  blew  upon  and  then  carefully 


The  Desert 

wiped  with  the  hem  of  his  burnoose.  He 
handed  the  spoon  to  the  old  man,  who 
felt  of  the  bowl. 

"  It  is  dry,"  he  said ; "  nothing  will  stick 
to  it." 

Hassan  plunged  the  spoon  into  the  bag 
and  brought  it  out,  filled  with  gold-dust, 
which  he  poured  into  the  empty  pan.  The 
scales  rose,  fell,  trembled,  and  then  set 
tled  even. 

"  I  nearly  always  can  judge  an  ounce," 
said  Hassan;  "a  grain  is  another  matter." 

He  weighed  out  sixteen  ounces.  The 
last  ounce  he  left  in  the  pan.  Then  he 
turned  and,  with  a  sweep  of  his  arm, 
caught  a  fly  from  off  the  wall.  He  handled 
it  with  the  greatest  care  until  he  held  it 
in  the  tips  of  his  fingers;  then  he  put  it 
into  his  mouth  and  closed  his  lips.  In  a 
moment  he  took  it  out.  The  fly  was  moist 
and  dejected.  He  placed  it  upon  the  gold- 
[  it*] 


The  Desert 

dust  in  the  pan.  The  fly  began  to  beat  its 
wings  and  work  its  legs.  In  a  moment  its 
color  changed  from  blue-black  to  yellow. 
It  was  coated  with  gold-dust.  Hassan  lifted 
it  with  a  pair  of  tweezers,  and  popped  it 
into  an  inlaid  box. 

"  My  commission,"  he  said. "  Good-by. 
Allah  be  with  you." 

The  old  man  tied  up  his  bag,  which 
seemed  to  be  as  heavy  as  ever. 

"I  thought,"  said  Abdullah,  glancing 
at  the  purse,  "that  seventeen  ounces  was 
all  you  had." 

"  What  remains,"  said  the  old  man,  and 
there  was  a  twinkle  in  his  eye,  "belongs 
to  Allah's  poor,  of  whom  I  am  one." 

"I  regret,"  said  Abdullah,  with  some 
heat,  "that  I  did  not  treble  my  usual 
price.  I  merely  doubled  it  for  you." 

The  old  man's  face  clouded,  but  only 
for  an  instant. 

[  "3  ] 


The  Desert 

"  My  son,"  he  said,  "  I  am  glad  that  I 
have  intrusted  my  daughter  to  you.  You 
will  bring  her  to  Biskra  in  safety.  At  what 
hour  do  you  start? " 

"Immediately  after  the  noon  prayer," 
answered  Abdullah,  "and  I  wait  for  no 
one." 

"Good,"  said  the  old  man, "we  shall 
be  there;  s/ama" 

"S/ama,"  said  Abdullah,  and  they 
parted. 

Abdullah  went  back  to  his  camels.  He 
found  Ali  asleep  between  the  black  racer 
and  the  dun  leader.  He  kicked  him  gen 
tly,  as  though  he  were  a  dog,  and  Ali  sat 
up  smiling  and  pleased  to  be  kicked,  when 
he  saw  his  master. 

"  We  take  two  women  with  us,"  said 
Abdullah. 

"Allah  help  us,"  said  Ali. 

"He  has  already,"  said  Abdullah;  "I 
[  iH] 


T/ie  Desert 

have  sixteen  ounces  in  my  girdle." 

"It  seems,  then,"  said  Ali,  grinning, 
"  that  not  only  Allah  has  helped  you,  but 
you  have  helped  yourself." 

"Peace,"  said  Abdullah,  "you  know 
nothing  of  commerce." 

"I  know,  however,"  said  Ali,  "that 
the  Englishwoman  whom  we  carried  two 
years  ago,  and  who  made  us  stop  two  days 
at  the  wells  of  Okba,  because  her  dog  was 
ailing,  gave  me  a  bad  piece  of  silver  that 
I  could  not  spend  in  Biskra.  'Twas  she  of 
the  prominent  teeth  and  the  big  feet.  I 
used  to  see  her  feet  when  she  mounted  her 
camel,  and  I  used  to  see  her  teeth  when 
I  saw  nothing  else." 

"  Peace,"  said  Abdullah.  "Allah  who 
made  us  made  also  the  English." 

"Perhaps,"  said  Ali,  "but  one  cannot 
help  wondering  why  He  did  it." 

"  If  we  carry  these  two  women,"  said 


'The  Desert 

Abdullah,  "we  must  leave  the  cargo  of 
two  beasts  behind.  Leave  four  ba^es  of 
hides;  I  took  them  conditioned  upon  no 
better  freight  offering;  and  put  the  wo 
men  on  the  two  lame  camels.  In  this  way 
we  profit  most,  since  we  sacrifice  least 
merchandise.  The  porters  will  be  here  at 
sunrise  to  help  you  load.  See  that  they  are 
careful.  You  remember  what  happened 
last  time,  when  our  cargoes  kept  shifting. 
All  seems  well  to-night,  except  you  have 
loaded  that  red  camel  yonder  too  high  on 
the  right  side.  How  can  a  camel  rest  if, 
when  he  kneels,  his  load  does  not  touch 
the  ground?  He  must  support  the  weight 
himself." 

"I  intended  to  alter  that  in  the  morn 
ing,"  said  Ali. 

"The  morning  may  never  dawn,"  said 
Abdullah,  "and  meanwhile  you  rob  the 
beast  of  one  night's  rest.  Attend  to  it  at 
[  "6] 


'The  Desert 

once.  The  speed  of  a  caravan  is  the  speed 
of  its  slowest  camel." 

"Who  should  know  that  better  than 
I?"  exclaimed  AH.  "Have  I  not  crossed 
the  desert  nine  times  with  you?  Oh,  mas 
ter,  bear  with  me,  I  am  growing  old." 

"What  is  your  age?"  asked  Abdullah. 

"  One-and-thirty,"  replied  AH. 

"My  friend,"  said  Abdullah,  "you  are 
good  for  another  voyage;  and  know  this, 
when  you  fail  me,  I  quit  the  desert,  and 
turn  householder,  with  a  wife  or  two,  and 
children,  if  Allah  wills  it.  I  myself  am  six- 
and-twenty.  I  have  earned  a  rest.  Slama" 
And  he  turned  on  his  heel  to  go,  but  he 
turned  again. 

"AH,"  he  said,  "who  lives  in  the  first 
house  beyond  the  mosque,  on  the  left  — 
the  house  with  the  green  lattices?" 

"  I  do  not  know,  my  master,"  replied 
AH, "  but  I  shall  tell  you  in  the  morning." 
[  "7] 


The  Desert         f 

• 

"Good,"  said  Abdullah;  "and  there  is 
a  damsel  who  sits  behind  the  lattice,  and 
always  wears  a  flower  in  her  hair,  a  red 
flower,  a  flower  like  this,"  and  he  put  his 
hand  into  the  folds  of  his  burnoose  and 
brought  out  a  faded,  crumpled,  red  olean 
der.  "Who  is  she?" 

"To-morrow,"  said  Ali. 

"Good,"  said  Abdullah,  and  he  went 
away. 

"Slama"  said  Ali,  and  then  he  added, 
to  himself,  "There  goes  a  masterful  man, 
and  a  just  one,  but  love  has  caught  him." 

And  he  hurriedly  eased  the  red  camel 
of  her  load. 


II 


T 


HE  next  morning  the  departing  car 
avan  had  many  visitors.  The  merchants 
from  the  arcades  came  to  see  that  their 
ventures  were  properly  loaded.  They 
passed  comments  upon  the  camels  as 
Englishmen  and  Americans  do  upon 
horses  in  the  paddock  or  the  show-ring. 
Some  they  criticised,  some  they  praised, 
but  they  were  of  one  mind  as  to  their 
condition. 

"  Their  humps  are  fat,"  they  all  agreed ; 
and,  as  a  camel  draws  upon  his  hump  for 
food  as  he  draws  upon  the  sacs  surround 
ing  his  stomach  for  water,  the  condition 
of  the  caravan  was  declared  to  be  mleh^ 
which  is  the  Arabic  equivalent  for  "fit." 

Abdullah  was  a  busy  man.  He  signed 
manifests,  received  money,  receipted  for 


T/ie  Desert 

it,  felt  of  surcingles,  tightened  them,  swore 
at  the  boys  who  were  teasing  the  camels, 
kicked  AH  whenever  he  came  within 
reach,  and  in  every  way  played  the  role 
of  the  business  man  of  the  desert. 

Suddenly,  from  the  minaret  of  the 
mosque  came  the  cry  of  the  mueddin. 
The  clamor  of  the  market  ceased  and  the 
Mussulmans  fell  upon  their  knees,  facing 
the  east  and  Mecca.  The  camels  were  al 
ready  kneeling,  but  they  were  facing  the 
north  and  Biskra. 

While  the  faithful  were  praying,  the 
unbelievers  from  the  Soudan  fell  back 
and  stood  silent.  A  cry  to  God,  no  mat 
ter  what  god,  silences  the  patter  of  the 
market-place.  Abdullah  prayed  as  a  child 
beseeches  his  father. 

"Give  me,  Allah,  a  safe  and  quick 
journey.  Unchoke  the  wells  at  Okba. 
Strengthen  the  yellow  camel.  Make  high 


The  Desert 

the  price  of  dates  and  low  the  price  of 
hides;  'tis  thus  I  have  ventured.  Bring  us 
in  safety  to  Biskra.  And  bring  me  to  the 
damsel  who  sits  behind  the  green  lattice. 
These  things  I  pray  —  thy  sinful  son,  Ab 
dullah." 

He  rose,  and  the  old  man  stood  at  his 
elbow.  Abdullah  had  forgotten  his  pas 
sengers. 

"This,"  said  the  old  man,  turning  to  a 
woman  veiled  to  her  eyes,  "  is  my  daugh 
ter,  and  this,"  he  added,  "is  her  maid," 
and  a  negress,  comely  and  smiling,  made 
salaam.  "I  pray  thee,"  he  continued,  "to 
deliver  this  invoice,"  and  he  handed  Ab 
dullah  a  paper. 

Abdullah  was  too  busy  to  notice  his 
passengers.  "Let  them  mount  at  once," 
he  said,  slipping  the  paper  under  his  gir 
dle,  and  he  left  them  to  Ali,  who  came 
up  showing  his  white  teeth. 


'The  Desert 

There  were  the  last  words,  instruc 
tions,  cautions,  adieus,  and  then  Abdul 
lah  held  up  his  hand.  Ali  gave  the  cry  of 
the  camel-driver  and  the  uncouth  beasts, 
twisting  and  snarling  under  their  loads, 
struggled  to  their  feet. 

Another  cry,  and  they  began  their  voy 
age.  They  traversed  the  square,  passed  the 
mosque,  turned  down  a  narrow  street, 
and  in  five  minutes  crossed  the  line  that 
bounded  the  oasis,  and  entered  upon  the 
desert. 

Immediately  the  dun  leader  took  his 
place  at  the  left  and  slightly  in  advance. 
The  fourth  on  the  right  of  the  dun  was 
the  black  racer.  He  carried  two  water- 
skins  and  Abdullah's  saddle.  Then  came, 
in  ranks,  fifteen  camels,  Ali  riding  in  the 
centre.  On  the  right  flank  rode  the  two 
women,  with  enormous  red  and  white 
cotton  sunshades  stretched  behind  them. 


The  Desert 

Then,  at  an  interval  of  six  rods,  came 
fifteen  camels  unattended.  They  simply 
followed  the  squad  in  front.  The  dun 
leader  and  the  black  racer  had  lanyards 
about  their  necks.  The  other  camels  had 
no  harness  save  the  surcingles  that  held 
their  loads. 

In  a  panic,  a  sand-storm,  a  fusillade 
from  Bedouins,  a  mirage,  and  a  race  for 
water,  if  Abdullah  and  Ali  could  grasp 
these  lanyards,  the  caravan  was  saved, 
since  the  other  camels  followed  the  dun 
leader  and  the  black  racer  as  sheep  follow 
the  bell-wether. 

Abdullah  walked  at  the  left,  abreast  of 
the  dun.  At  intervals  he  rode  the  black 
racer. 

The  pace  of  a  caravan  is  two  miles  an 
hour,  but  Abdullah's,  the  two  cripples 
included,  could  make  two  miles  and  a 
quarter.  The  black  racer  could  make  sixty 


'The  Desert 

miles  a  day  for  five  days,  without  drink 
ing,  but  at  the  end  of  such  a  journey  his 
hump  would  be  no  larger  than  a  pin 
cushion,  and  his  temper — ? 

For  centuries  it  has  been  the  custom  of 
Sahara  caravans  to  travel  not  more  than 
five  miles  the  first  day.  Abdullah,  the 
iconoclast,  made  thirty-three.  Ali  came 
to  him  at  two  o'clock. 

"Shall  we  camp,  master?"  he  asked. 

"When  I  give  the  word,"  replied 
Abdullah.  "You  forget  that  the  wells  at 
Okba  are  choked.  We  shall  camp  at  El 
Zarb." 

"  El  Zarb,"  exclaimed  Ali. "  We  should 
camp  there  to-morrow." 

"  Must  I  continually  remind  you,"  said 
Abdullah,  "that  to-morrow  may  never 
dawn?  We  camp  at  El  Zarb  to-night." 

At  nine  o'clock  they  marched  under 
the  palms  of  El  Zarb.  Abdullah  held  up 


The  Desert 

his  hands;  Ali  ran  to  the  head  of  the  dun 
leader;  the  caravan  halted,  groaned,  and 
knelt.  The  first  day's  journey  was  over. 


Ill 


1  HE  moment  that  the  halt  was  ac 
complished,  Abdullah  went  about,  loos 
ing  the  surcingles  of  his  camels.  Then  he 
began  to  pitch  his  tent.  It  was  of  camel- 
skins,  stretched  over  eight  sticks,  and  fas 
tened  at  the  edges  with  spikes  of  locust 
wood.  It  was  entirely  open  at  the  front, 
and  when  he  had  the  flaps  pinned,  he  gath 
ered  a  little  pile  of  camels'  dung,  struck  a 
match,  and  began  to  make  his  tea.  He 
had  no  thought  for  his  passengers.  His 
thoughts  were  with  his  heart,  and  that 
was  back  at  the  house  beyond  the  bazaar 
—  the  house  with  the  green  lattices.  Be 
fore  the  water  boiled,  Ali  came  up,  eager, 
breathless. 

"  Master,"  he  said,  "  the  passengers  are 
cared  for,  and  the  mistress  wears  a  flower 

[ 


'The  Desert 

like  —  1  ike  that;  the  one  you  showed  me;" 
and  he  pointed  to  Abdullah's  bosom. 

"  You  are  either  a  faithful  servant,"  said 
Abdullah,  "or  you  are  a  great  liar.  The 
morrow  will  tell."  And  he  started  toward 
the  passengers'  tent.  He  found  it  closed. 
Being  a  woman's  tent,  it  had  front  flaps, 
and  they  were  laced.  He  walked  back  and 
forth  before  it.  He  was  master  of  the  cara 
van,  more  autocratic  than  the  master  of 
a  ship.  He  might  have  cut  the  laces,  en 
tered,  and  no  one  could  have  questioned. 
That  is  the  law  of  the  desert.  He  could 
more  easily  have  cut  his  own  throat  than 
that  slender  cord. 

He  wandered  back  and  forth  before  the 
tent.  The  twilight  faded.  The  shadows 
turned  from  saffron  to  violet,  to  purple, 
to  cobalt.  Out  of  the  secret  cavern  of  the 
winds  came  the  cool  night-breeze  of  the 
Sahara. 

[  I27  ] 


The  Desert 

Still  he  paced  up  and  down,  before  the 
little  tent.  And  as  he  measured  the  sands, 
he  measured  his  life.  Born  of  a  camel- 
driver  by  a  slave;  working  his  way  across 
the  desert  a  score  of  times  before  his  wages 
made  enough  to  buy  one  bale  of  hides; 
venturing  the  earnings  of  a  lifetime  on 
one  voyage  —  making  a  profit,  when  a  loss 
would  have  put  him  back  to  the  begin 
ning —  venturing  again,  winning  again 

—  buying   three   camels — leasing   them 

—  buying  three  more  —  starting  an  ex 
press  from  the  Soudan  to  Biskra  one  day 
short  of  all  others;  —  carrying  only  dates 
and  gold-dust  —  insuring  his  gold-dust, 
something  he  learned  from  the  French 
in  Biskra;  —  buying  thirty  camels  at  a 
plunge  —  at  once  the  master  camel-driver 
of  the  Sahara  —  and  here  he  was,  pacing 
up  and  down  before  a  laced  tent  which 
held  behind  it  —  a  woman. 

[ 


'T/ie  Desert 

The  night  of  the  desert  settled  down, 
and  still  he  paced.  The  stars  came  up  — 
the  stars  by  which  he  laid  his  course;  and, 
finally,  pacing,  he  came  for  the  hundredth 
time  to  the  tent's  front  and  stopped. 

"  Mistress? "  he  whispered.  There  was 
no  answer.  "Mistress?"  he  called,  and 
then,  after  an  interval,  the  flies  of  the  tent 
parted  —  a  white  hand,  and  a  whiter  wrist, 
appeared,  and  a  red  oleander  fell  on  the 
sands  of  the  desert. 

Abdullah  was  on  his  knees.  He  pressed 
the  flower  to  his  lips,  to  his  heart.  Kneel 
ing  he  watched  the  flaps  of  the  tent.  They 
fluttered ;  the  laces  raced  through  the  eye 
lets;  the  flaps  parted,  and  a  girl,  unveiled, 
stepped  out  into  the  firelight.  They  stood, 
silent,  gazing  one  at  the  other. 

"You  have  been  long  in  coming,"  she 
said,  at  length. 

There  is  no  love-making  in  the  desert. 


The  Desert 

Thanks  to  its  fervent  heat,  love  there 
comes  ready-made. 

"Yes,"  said  Abdullah,  "I  have  tarried, 
but  now  that  I  have  come,  I  stay  for 
ever;"  and  he  took  her  in  his  arms. 

"When  did  you  love  me  first?"  she 
whispered,  half-released. 

"When  first  I  saw  you,  behind  the 
green  lattice,"  gasped  Abdullah. 

"Ah,  that  green  lattice,"  whispered  the 
girl;  "how  small  its  openings  were.  And 
still,  my  heart  flew  through  them  when 
first  you  passed.  How  proudly  you  walked. 
Walk  for  me  now — here,  in  the  firelight, 
where  I  may  see  you — not  so  slowly  with 
your  eyes  turned  toward  me,  but  swiftly, 
smoothly,  proudly,  your  head  held  high 
—  that's  it  —  that  is  the  way  you  passed 
my  lattice,  and  as  you  passed  my  heart 
cried  out,  'There  goes  my  king.'  Did  you 
not  hear  it  ? " 


The  Desert 

" No,"  said  Abdullah;  "  my  own  heart 
cried  so  loudly  I  heard  naught  else." 

"What did  it  cry?  What  cries  it  now?" 
she  said;  and  she  placed  her  cheek  against 
his  bosom,  her  ear  above  his  heart.  "I  hear 
it,"  she  whispered,  "but  it  beats  so  fast  I 
cannot  understand." 

"Then,"  said  Abdullah,  "I  must  tell 
thee  with  my  lips." 

"Oh,  beloved,"  she  whispered,  "the 
camels  will  see  us." 

"  What  matters,"  he  said ; "  they  belong 
to  me." 

"Then  they  are  my  brethren,"  she  said, 
"since  I,  also,  belong  to  thee,"  and  with 
arms  entwined  they  passed  out  of  the  fire 
light  into  the  purple  of  the  desert. 

When  they  came  back,  the  hobbled 
camels  were  snoring,  and  the  unfed  fires 
were  smouldering. 


The  Desert 

"Allah  keep  thee,"  said  Abdullah,  at 
the  door  of  her  tent. 

"And  thee,  my  master,"  said  the  girl, 
and  the  flaps  fell. 

Abdullah  went  slowly  toward  his  own 
tent.  He  stopped  a  moment  by  one  of 
the  lame  camels.  "Thou  broughtest  her 
to  me,"  he  said,  and  he  eased  the  beast's 
surcingle  by  a  dozen  holes. 

He  reached  his  tent,  paused,  faced  the 
western  horizon,  lifted  his  arms,  breathed 
in  the  sweet,  cool  air  of  the  desert,  and 
entered. 

Ali  had  spread  a  camel's  hide,  had  cov 
ered  a  water-skin  with  a  burnoose  for  a 
pillow,  and  had  left,  near  it,  a  coiled  wax- 
taper  and  a  box  of  matches.  Abdullah  un 
twined  his  turban,  loosened  his  sash,  felt 
something  escape  him,  fell  on  his  knees, 
groped,  felt  a  paper,  rose,  went  to  the 
tent's  door,  recognized  the  invoice  which 


The  Desert 

the  old  man  had  given  him,  went  out, 
kicked  up  the  embers  of  the  fire,  knelt, 
saw  that  the  paper  was  unsealed,  was  fas 
tened  merely  with  a  thread,  played  with 
the  thread,  saw  it  part  beneath  his  fin 
gers,  saw  the  page  unfold,  stirred  up  the 
embers,  and  read: 

TO  MIRZA,  Mother  of  the  Dancers  at 
Biskra,  by  the  hand  of  Abdul/ah.  I 
"  send  thee,  as  I  said,  the  most  beautiful  wo- 
"  man  in  the  'world.  She  has  been  carefully 
"  reared.  She  has  no  thought  of  commercialism. 
"  Two  and  two  are  Jive  to  her  as  well  as  four. 
"  She  is  unspoiled.  She  never  has  had  a  coin  in 
"  her  finger S)  and  she  never  has  had  a  wish 
"  ungratified.  She  knows  a  little  French ;  the 
"  French  of  courtship  merely.  Her  Arabic  is 
"  that  of  Medina.  Tou,  doubtless,  will  exploit 
"  her  in  Biskra.  Tou  may  have  her  for  two 
"years.  By  that  time  she  may  toss  her  own 


'The  Desert 

"  handkerchief.  Then  she  reverts  tome.  I  shall 
"  take  her  to  Cairo,  where  second-rate  Eng- 
"  lishmen  and  first-rate  Americans  abound. 
"  Tfolf  £r  thy  receipt  for  the  thirty  ounces 
"you  sent  me. 

"ILDERHIM." 

When  Abdullah  had  read  this  invoice 
of  his  love,  he  sat  long  before  the  little 
fire  as  one  dead.  Then  he  rose,  felt  in  his 
bosom,  and  drew  out  two  flowers,  one 
withered,  the  other  fresh.  He  dropped 
these  among  the  embers,  straightened 
himself;  lifted  his  arms  toward  heaven, 
and  slowly  entered  his  tent. 

The  little  fires  smouldered  and  died, 
and  the  great  desert  was  silent,  save  for 
the  sighing  of  the  camels  and  the  sing 
ing  of  the  shifting  sands. 


[  134] 


The  Desert 

THE    MAN    WHO    KEEPS    GOATS 

I 

THE  next  morning  broke  as  all  morn 
ings  break  in  the  desert,  first  yellow,  then 
white,  and  always  silent.  The  air  bore  the 
scent  of  sage.  The  hobbled  camels  had 
broken  every  shrub  within  their  reach, 
and  stunted  herbage  is,  almost  always, 
aromatic. 

Abdullah  gave  no  heed  to  the  sun.  He 
who  for  ten  years  had  been  the  most  ener 
getic  man  of  the  desert  had  over  night  be 
come  the  most  nonchalant.  Like  Achilles, 
he  sulked  in  his  tent. 

At  five  o'clock  Ali  ventured  to  bring 
his  master's  coffee.  He  found  Abdullah 
fully  dressed  and  reading  a  paper,  which 
he  hurriedly  thrust  into  his  burnoose  when 
he  was  interrupted. 

"Your  coffee,  master,"  said  Ali.  "We 


The  Desert 

have  twelve  leagues  to  make  to-day." 

"Ali,"  said  Abdullah,  "the  night  be 
fore  we  started  I  asked  you  who  lived 
in  the  house  with  the  green  lattices  — 
the  next  house  beyond  the  mosque  —  and 
you  promised  to  tell  me  in  the  morn- 
ing." 

"Yes,  master,"  said  Ali,  "but  in  the 
morning  you  did  not  ask  me." 

"  I  ask  you  now,"  said  Abdullah. 

Ali  bowed.  "Master,"  he  answered, 
"  the  house  is  occupied  by  Ilderhim,  chief 
of  the  tribe  of  Ouled  Nail.  He  hires  it  for 
five  years,  and  he  occupies  it  for  the  three 
months,  Chaban,  Ramadan,  and  Chaoual, 
of  each  year.  He  has  also  the  gardens 
and  four  water-rights.  He  deals  in  ivory, 
gold-dust,  and  dancing-girls.  He  formerly 
lived  in  Biskra,  but  the  French  banished 
him.  They  have  also  banished  him  from 
Algiers,  and  he  has  been  warned  from 

[  -36  ] 


The  Desert 

Cairo  and  Medina.  He  has  a  divorced  wife 
in  each  of  those  cities.  They  are  the  mo 
thers  of  the  dancing-girls.  The  one  in  Bis 
kra  is  Mirza.  Every  one  in  Biskra  knows 
Mirza.  Doubtless  you,  master  —  " 

"Yes,"  said  Abdullah,  "but  the  dam 
sel.  Who  is  she?" 

"His  daughter,"  replied  Ali. 

"  How  know  you  this? "  demanded  Ab 
dullah,  fiercely. 

"Master,"  said  Ali,  "last  night,  when 
you  were  looking  at  the  stars  with  the 
mistress,  I  had  a  word  with  the  maid.  She 
came  to  me,  while  I  was  asleep  by  the 
dun  leader,  and  shook  me  as  if  I  had  been 
an  old  friend. 

"  'Save  her,' she  whispered,  as  I  rubbed 
my  eyes. 

"'Willingly,'  I  replied. 'Who  is  she?' 

"'My  mistress,'  said  the  maid.  'They 
are  taking  her  to  Biskra.  She  has  been  sold 


The  Desert 

to  Mirza.  She  will  dance  in  the  cafes.  This 
sweet  flower  will  be  cast  into  the  mire  of 
the  market-place.  Save  her.' 

"'How  know  you  this?'  I  asked. 

"'Ah,'  she  answered,  'this  is  not  the 
first  time  I  have  crossed  the  desert  with 
one  of  Ilderhim's  daughters.  Save  her.' 

'"Does  the  damsel  know  nothing  of 
this — does  she  not  go  with  her  eyes  open  ? ' 
I  asked. 

" '  She  thinks,'  said  the  maid, '  that  she 
goes  to  Biskra  to  be  taught  the  manners 
and  the  learning  of  the  French  women  — 
to  read,  to  sing,  to  know  the  world.  Her 
heart  is  even  fairer  than  her  face.  She 
knows  no  evil.  Save  her." 

Abdullah  groaned  and  hung  his  head. 

" Forgive  me,  Allah,"  he  said,  "for  that 
I  doubted  her.  Forgive  me  for  that  I 
burned  the  flowers  she  gave  to  me,"  and 
he  went  out. 

[  138] 


T'he  Desert 

"Your  coffee,  master,"  cried  Ali,  but 
Abdullah  paid  no  heed.  He  went  swiftly 
to  the  little  tent,  and  there  was  the  dam 
sel,  veiled,  and  already  mounted  on  the 
lame  camel,  ready  to  march. 

"Beloved,"  said  Abdullah,  "you  must 
dismount,"  and  he  lifted  her  from  the 
back  of  the  kneeling  beast. 

"Ali,"  he  cried,  "place  the  damsel's 
saddle  on  the  black  racer,  and  put  mine 
on  the  dun.  We  two  start  on  at  once  for 
the  oasis  of  Zama.  We  can  make  it  in 
thirteen  hours.  Give  us  a  small  water- 
skin  and  some  dates.  I  leave  everything 
else  with  you.  Load,  and  follow  us.  We 
will  wait  for  you  at  Zama.  I  go  to  counsel 
with  the  Man  who  Keeps  Goats." 

In  five  minutes  the  black  racer  and  the 
dun  leader  were  saddled. 

"Come,  beloved,"  said  Abdullah,  and 
without  a  word  she  followed  him.  She 
[  139  ] 


T'he  Desert 

had  asked  no  question,  exhibited  no  curi 
osity.  It  was  enough  for  her  that  Abdul 
lah  said,  "Come." 

They  rode  in  silence  for  some  minutes. 
Then  Abdullah  said:  "Beloved,  I  do  not 
know  your  name." 

She  dropped  her  veil,  and  his  heart  fell 
to  fluttering. 

"The  one  who  loves  me  calls  me  'be 
loved,'  "  she  said,  "and  I  like  that  name." 

"  But  your  real  name? "  said  Abdullah. 

"I  was  baptized  ' Fathma,' "  she  said, 
smiling. 

"  Doubtless,"  said  Abdullah ;  "  since  all 
women  are  named  for  the  mother  of  the 
Prophet;  but  what  is  your  other  name, 
your  house  name?" 

"Nicha,"  she  answered;  "do  you  like 
it?" 

"Yes,"  he  said,  "I  like  it." 

"  I  like  '  beloved '  better,"  said  the  girl. 


The  Desert 

"  You  shall  hear  it  to  your  heart's  con 
tent,"  said  Abdullah. 

They  went  on  again,  in  silence,  which 
was  broken  by  the  girl. 

"  Master,"  she  said, "  if  you  do  not  care 
to  speak  to  me  further,  I  will  put  up  my 
veil." 

"Do  not,"  exclaimed  Abdullah,  "un 
less,"  he  added,  "you  fear  for  your  com 
plexion." 

"  I  do  not  fear  for  my  complexion," 
said  the  girl,  "but  for  my  reputation;" 
and  she  smiled  again. 

"  That,"  said  Abdullah, "  is  henceforth 
in  my  keeping.  Pay  no  heed  to  it." 

"  I  am  not  yet  your  wife,"  said  the  girl. 

"True,"  said  Abdullah,  "and  we  are 
making  this  forced  march  to  learn  how  I 
may  make  you  such.  Who  is  your  father, 
beloved?" 

"Ilderhim,"  she  answered;  "but  why 


The  Desert 

do  you  ask?  You  saw  him  when  we  started 
from  El  Merb." 

"Do  you  love  him?"  asked  Abdullah. 

"I  scarcely  know," answered  the  girl, 
after  a  pause.  "  I  have  not  seen  him  often. 
He  is  constantly  from  home.  He  buys  me 
pretty  clothes  and  permits  me  to  go  to 
the  cemetery  each  Friday  with  my  maid. 
I  suppose  I  love  him  —  not  as  I  love  you, 
or  as  I  love  the  camel  that  brought  me 
to  you,  or  the  sandal  on  your  foot,  or  the 
sand  it  presses  —  still,  I  think  I  must  love 
him — but  I  never  thought  about  it  be 
fore." 

"And  your  mother?"  asked  Abdullah. 

"I  have  no  mother,"  said  the  girl. 
"She  died  before  I  can  remember." 

"And  why  do  you  go  to  Biskra?" 
asked  Abdullah. 

"My  father  sends  me,"  said  the  girl, 
"to  a  great  lady  who  lives  there.  Her 


T/ie  Desert 

name  is  Mirza.  Do  you  not  know  her, 
since  you  lived  in  Biskra?" 

Abdullah  did  not  answer.  Something 
suddenly  went  wrong  with  his  saddle,  and 
he  busied  himself  with  it. 

"I  am  to  be  taught  the  languages  and 
the  ways  of  Europe,"  continued  the  girl, 
"music  and  dancing,  and  many  things  the 
desert  cannot  teach.  I  am  to  remain  two 
years,  and  then  my  father  fetches  me. 
Now  that  I  consider  the  trouble  and  ex 
pense  he  is  put  to  on  my  account,  surely 
I  should  love  him,  should  I  not?" 

Abdullah's  saddle  again  required  at 
tention. 

They  rode  for  hours,  sometimes  speak 
ing,  sometimes  silent.  Twice  Abdullah 
passed  dates  and  water  to  the  girl,  and 
always  they  pressed  on.  A  camel  does  not 
trot,  he  paces.  He  moves  the  feet  of  his 
right  side  forward  at  once,  and  follows 

[  H3 1 


'The  Desert 

them  with  the  feet  of  his  left  side.  This 
motion  heaves  the  rider  wofully.The  girl 
stood  it  bravely  for  six  hours,  then  she 
began  to  droop.  Abdullah  watched  her  as 
her  head  sank  toward  the  camel's  neck; 
conversation  had  long  ceased.  It  had 
become  a  trial  of  endurance.  Abdullah 
kept  his  eye  upon  the  girl.  He  saw  her 
head  bending,  bending  toward  her  cam 
el's  neck;  he  gave  the  cry  of  halt,  leaped 
from  the  dun,  while  yet  at  speed,  raced 
to  the  black,  held  up  his  arms  and  caught 
his  mistress  as  she  fell. 

There  was  naught  about  them  save  the 
two  panting  camels,  the  brown  sands,  the 
blue  sky,  and  the  God  of  Love.  Abdullah 
lifted  her  to  the  earth  as  tenderly,  as  mod 
estly,  as  though  she  had  been  his  sister. 
It  is  a  fine  thing  to  be  a  gentleman,  and 
the  God  of  Love  is  a  great  God. 

It  proved  that  the  girl's  faintness  came 


T'he  Desert 

from  the  camel's  motion  and  the  cruel 
sun.  Abdullah  made  the  racer  and  the 
dun  kneel  close  together.  He  spread  his 
burnoose  over  them  and  picketed  it  with 
his  riding-stick.  This  made  shade.  Then 
he  brought  water  from  the  little  skin; 
touched  the  girl's  lips  with  it,  bathed  her 
brow,  sat  by  her,  silent,  saw  her  sleep; 
knelt  in  the  sand  and  kissed  the  little 
hand  that  rested  on  it,  and  prayed  to  Him 
that  some  call  God,  and  more  call  Allah. 

In  an  hour  the  girl  whispered,  "Ab 
dullah?" 

He  was  at  her  lips. 

"Why  are  we  waiting?"  she  asked. 

"Because  I  was  tired,"  he  answered. 

"Are  you  rested?"  she  asked. 

"Yes,"  he  answered. 

"Then  let  us  go  on,"  she  said. 

They  rode  on,  hope  sustaining  Abdul 
lah,  and  love  sustaining  Nicha,  for  she 
[  >45] 


'The  Desert 

knew  nothing  but  love. 

Then,  after  eight  hours,  on  the  edge 
of  the  desert  appeared  a  little  cloud,  no 
larger  than  a  man's  hand. 

Abdullah  roused  himself  with  effort. 
He  watched  the  cloud  resolve  itself  into  a 
mass  of  green,  into  waving  palms  —  then 
he  knew  that  Zama  was  before  him,  and 
that  the  march  was  ended. 

He  turned  and  spoke  to  the  girl.  They 
had  not  spoken  for  hours.  "Beloved,"  he 
said,  "a  half-hour,  and  we  reach  rest." 

She  did  not  answer.  She  was  asleep 
upon  her  saddle. 

"Thank  Allah,"  said  Abdullah,  and 
they  rode  on. 

Suddenly  the  trees  of  the  oasis  were 
blotted  out.  A  yellow  cloud  of  dust  rolled 
in  between  them  and  the  travellers,  and 
Abdullah  said  to  himself,  "  It  is  he  whom 
I  seek — it  is  He  who  Keeps  Goats." 

[  146] 


The  Desert 

ii 

THEY  met.  In  the  midst  of  threescore 
goats  whose  feet  had  made  the  yellow 
cloud  of  dust  was  a  man,  tall,  gaunt, 
dressed  in  the  garb  of  the  desert,  and 
burned  by  the  sun  as  black  as  a  Soudanese. 

"Ah,  my  son,"  he  cried,  in  French, 
when  he  was  within  distance,  "you  travel 
light  this  time.  Whom  have  you  with 
you,  another  mistress,  or,  at  last,  a  wife?" 

"  Hush,"  said  Abdullah,  "she  is  a  little 
damsel  who  has  ridden  twelve  leagues  and 
is  cruel  tired." 

"God  help  her,"  said  the  man  of  the 
goats;  "shall  I  give  her  some  warm  milk 
-there  is  plenty?" 

"  No,"  said  Abdullah;  "let  us  go  to  thy 
house,"  and  the  goats,  at  the  whistle  of 
their  master,  turned,  and  followed  the 
camels  under  the  palms  of  the  oasis  of 
Zama. 

[  H7] 


'The  Desert 

They  halted  before  a  little  hut,  and 
Abdullah  held  up  his  hand.  The  camels 
stopped  and  kneeled.  The  girl  did  not 
move.  Abdullah  ran  to  her,  took  her  in 
his  arms,  lifted  her,  turned,  entered  the 
hut,  passed  to  the  inner  room,  laid  her 
upon  a  low  couch,  beneath  the  window, 
put  away  her  veil,  kissed  her  hand,  not 
her  lips,  and  came  out. 

In  the  outer  room  he  found  his  host. 
Upon  the  table  were  some  small  cheeses, 
a  loaf  of  bread,  a  gourd  of  milk.  Abdul 
lah  fell  upon  the  food. 

"Well,  my  son,"  said  his  host,  after 
Abdullah  began  to  pick  and  choose, 
"what  brings  you  to  me?" 

"This,"  said  Abdullah,  and  he  felt  in 
his  bosom,  and  drew  out  the  invoice  of 
his  passenger. 

His  host  took  from  a  book  upon  the 
table  a  pair  of  steel-bowed  spectacles — 


The  Desert 

the  only  pair  in  the  Sahara.  He  placed  the 
bow  upon  his  nose,  the  curves  behind  his 
ears,  snuffed  the  taper  with  his  fingers, 
took  the  invoice  from  Abdullah,  and  read. 
He  read  it  once,  looked  up,  and  said  noth 
ing.  He  read  it  a  second  time,  looked  up, 
and  said:  "Well,  what  of  it?" 

"Is  it  legal?"  asked  Abdullah. 

"  Doubtless,"  said  his  host,  "since  it  is 
a  hiring,  merely,  not  a  sale;  and  it  is  to 
be  executed  in  Biskra,  which  is  under  the 
French  rule." 

"  The  French  rule  is  beneficent,  doubt 
less?"  asked  Abdullah. 

His  host  did  not  answer  for  some  min 
utes;  then  he  said:  "It  is  a  compromise; 
and  certain  souls  deem  compromises  to  be 
justice.  The  real  men  of  this  age,  as  of 
all  others,  do  not  compromise;  they  fight 
out  right  and  wrong  to  a  decision.  The 
French  came  into  Algeria  to  avenge  a 

[  H9  ] 


T'he  Desert 

wrong.  They  fought,  they  conquered,  and 
then  they  compromised.  Having  com 
promised,  they  must  fight  and  conquer 
all  over  again." 

"You  are  a  Frenchman,  are  you  not?" 
asked  Abdullah. 

"No,"  replied  his  host,  "I  am  a  Pari 
sian." 

"Ah,"  exclaimed  Abdullah, "  I  thought 
they  were  the  same  thing." 

"Far  from  it,"  replied  his  host.  "In 
Brittany,  Frenchmen  wear  black  to  this 
day  for  the  king  whom  Parisians  guillo 
tined." 

"  Pardon,"  said  Abdullah ; "  I  have  been 
taught  that  Paris  is  French." 

"Not  so,  my  son,"  rejoined  his  host; 
"Paris  is  universal.  If  you  will  go  to  the 
Museum  of  the  Louvre,  and  take  a  seat 
before  the  Venus  of  Milo,  and  will  remain 
long  enough,  everybody  in  this  world, 


T'he  Desert 

worth  knowing,  will  pass  by  you ;  crowned 
heads,  diplomats,  financiers,  the  demi 
monde;  you  may  meet  them  all.  They  tell 
me  that  the  same  thing  happens  to  the 
occupant  of  the  corner  table  of  the  Cafe 
de  la  Paix  —  the  table  next  to  the  Avenue 
de  1'Opera;  if  he  waits  long  enough,  he 
will  see  every  one  — " 

"Pardon  me,  Monsieur,"  said  Abdul 
lah,  "but  I  care  to  see  no  one  save  the 
little  maid  sleeping  within." 

"Ah,"  said  his  host,  "it  is  love,  is  it? 
I  thought  it  was  commercialism." 

"  No,"  said  Abdullah;  "  it  is  a  question 
of  how  I  can  keep  the  woman  I  love,  and 
still  keep  my  commercial  integrity.  She 
is  consigned  to  me  by  her  father,  to  be 
delivered  to  Mirza,  the  mother  of  the 
dancers,  in  Biskra.  I  am  the  trusted  cara 
van  owner  between  El  Merb  and  Biskra. 
In  the  last  ten  years  I  have  killed  many 


'The  Desert 

men  who  tried  to  rob  my  freight  of  dates, 
and  hides,  and  gold-dust.  Now  I  long  to 
rob  my  own  freight  of  the  most  precious 
thing  I  have  ever  carried.  May  I  do  it, 
and  still  be  a  man;  or  must  I  deliver  the 
damsel,  re-cross  the  desert,  return  the 
passage  money  to  her  father,  come  once 
more  to  Biskra,  and  find  my  love  the 
sport  of  the  cafes? " 

The  Man  who  Keeps  Goats  rose  and 
paced  the  floor. 

"  My  son,"  he  said,  finally,  "when  the 
French  occupied  Algeria,  they  made  this 
bargain  —  'Mussulmans  shall  be  judged 
by  their  civil  law.'  It  was  a  compromise 
and,  therefore,  a  weakness.  The  civil  law 
of  the  Mohammedans  is,  virtually,  the 
Koran.  The  law  of  France  is,  virtually, 
the  Code  Napoleon.  The  parties  to  the 
present  contract  being  Mohammedans,  it 
will  be  construed  by  their  law,  and  it  is 

[  15*  ] 


T'he  Desert 

not  repugnant  to  it.  If,  on  the  contrary, 
the  damsel  were  a  Christian,  the  French 
commandant  at  Biskra  would  tear  the  con- 
tracl:  to  pieces,  since  it  is  against  morals. 
Better  yet,  if  you  were  a  Christian,  and  the 
damsel  your  wife,  you  might  hold  her  in 
Biskra  against  the  world." 

Abdullah  sat  silent,  his  eyes  half 
closed. 

"Monsieur,"  he  said  at  length,  "is  it 
very  difficult  to  become  a  Christian?" 

The  Man  who  Keeps  Goats  sat  silent 
—  in  his  turn. 

"My  son,"  he  said,  finally,  "I  myself 
am  a  priest  of  the  Church.  I  have  lived 
in  the  desert  for  twenty  years,  but  I  have 
never  been  unfrocked.  I  cannot  answer 
you,  but  I  can  tell  you  what  a  wiser  than 
I  declared  to  a  desert  traveller  who  put 
this  same  question  nineteen  hundred  years 
ago." 

[  "53  ] 


The  Desert 

He  took  up  the  book  upon  the  table, 
turned  a  few  pages,  and  read  —  " '  And  the 
angel  of  the  Lord  spake  unto  Philip,  say 
ing,  Arise,  and  go  toward  the  south  unto 
the  way  that  goeth  down  from  Jerusalem 
unto  Gaza,  which  is  desert.  And  he  arose 
and  went:  and,  behold,  a  man  of  Ethiopia, 
a  eunuch  of  great  authority  under  Can- 
dace  queen  of  the  Ethiopians,  who  had 
the  charge  of  all  her  treasure,  and  had 
come  to  Jerusalem  for  to  worship,  was  re 
turning,  and  sitting  in  his  chariot  read 
Esaias  the  prophet.  .  .  .  And  Philip  ran 
thither  to  him,  and  heard  him  read  the 
prophet  Esaias,  and  said,  Understandest 
thou  what  thou  readest?  And  he  said, 
How  can  I,  except  some  man  should 
guide  me?  And  he  desired  Philip  that  he 
would  come  up  and  sit  with  him.  .  .  . 
Then  Philip  opened  his  mouth,  and  be 
gan  at  the  same  scripture,  and  preached 

[  154] 


T'he  Desert 

unto  him  Jesus.  And  as  they  went  on  their 
way,  they  came  unto  a  certain  water:  and 
the  eunuch  said,  See,  here  is  water;  what 
doth  hinder  me  to  be  baptized? 

"'And  Philip  said,  If  thou  believest 
with  all  thine  heart,  thou  mayest.  And  he 
answered  and  said,  I  believe  that  Jesus 
Christ  is  the  Son  of  God. 

"'And  he  commanded  the  chariot  to 
stand  still:  and  they  went  down  both  into 
the  water,  both  Philip  and  the  eunuch; 
and  he  baptized  him." 

Scarcely  had  the  reader  ceased  when 
Abdullah  sprang  to  his  feet.  "Father," 
he  cried,  "see,  here  is  water.  What  doth 
hinder  me  to  be  baptized?'3 

"My  son,"  said  the  old  man,  "how 
canst  thou  believe  with  all  thine  heart? 
No  Philip  has  preached  Jesus  unto  thee." 

"What  need?"  exclaimed  Abdullah. 
"Can  a  man's  belief  need  preaching  to 
[  >55  ] 


The  Desert 

in  such  a  case  as  this?  How  long  must  I 
believe  a  religion  that  saves  her  I  love? 
A  month,  a  year,  until  it  avails  noth 
ing,  and  she  is  gone?  This  eunuch  was  a 
blacker  man  than  I;  like  me,  he  was  a 
man  of  the  desert.  He  did  not  ride  with 
Philip  long.  I  have  not  only  heard  what 
Philip  said  to  him,  but  I  have  also  heard 
what  you  have  said  to  me.  Both  of  you 
have  preached  unto  me  Jesus.  What  right 
have  you  to  doubt  my  belief  in  a  God 
who  will  save  my  love  to  me?  Again, 
I  ask  you,  what  doth  hinder  me  to  be 
baptized?" 

"  Nothing,"  said  the  old  man,  and  they 
went  out  both  to  the  well,  sparkling  be 
neath  the  palms,  both  Abdullah  and  the 
Man  who  Keeps  Goats;  and  he  baptized 
him. 

When  Abdullah  rose  from  his  knees, 
his  forehead  dripping,  he  drew  his  hand 

[  156] 


The  Desert 

across  his  face  and  asked,  "Am  I  a  Chris 
tian?" 

"Yes,"  said  the  priest,  "so  far  as  I  can 
make  you  one." 

"Thank  you,"  said  Abdullah;  "you 
have  done  much,  and  in  the  morning 
you  shall  do  more,  for  then  you  shall 
baptize  the  damsel  and  shall  marry  us 
according  to  your — pardon  me  —  our 
religion." 

They  entered  the  hut,  and  the  priest, 
pointing  toward  the  chamber-door,  asked : 
"Does  she  believe?" 

"She  believes  what  I  believe,"  said 
Abdullah. 

The  priest  shook  his  head.  "You 
speak,"  he  said,  "not  as  a  Christian,  but 
as  a  Moslem.  You  were  brought  up  to 
look  upon  woman  as  a  mere  adjunct, 
a  necessary  evil,  necessary  because  men 
must  be  born  into  the  world.  A  female 

[  157] 


The  Desert 

child,  with  you,  was  a  reproach;  she  was 
scarcely  seen  by  her  parents  until  she  was 
brought  out  to  be  sold  in  marriage.  With 
Christians  it  is  different.  A  woman  has  a 
soul  —  " 

"Hush,"  said  Abdullah,  "or  you  will 
awaken  the  camels  with  that  strange  doc 
trine.  A  woman  has  a  soul,  has  she?  You 
read  me  no  such  proposition  from  your 
prophets,  a  half-hour  ago.  Woman  was 
not  mentioned  by  Philip  or  by  the  Ethio 
pian  in  what  you  read  to  me.  Is  there 
aught  in  your  book  that  argues  that  wo 
man  has  a  soul? " 

"  Doubtless,"  said  the  priest,  "  but  I  do 
not  recall  it." 

He  caught  up  his  Bible.  He  opened  it 
unluckily,  for  the  first  words  that  met  his 
eye  were  these,  and  he  read  them:  "Wo 
man,  what  have  I  to  do  with  thee?"  and 
he  paused,  embarrassed. 

[  158  ] 


The  Desert 

"Whose  words  were  those?"  asked 
Abdullah. 

The  priest  hesitated,  crossed  himself, 
and  answered:  "They  were  the  words  of 
Jesus.'5 

"To  whom  were  they  spoken? "asked 
Abdullah. 

The  answer  lagged.  Finally,  the  priest 
said,  "To  His  mother." 

"Master,"  said  Abdullah,  "the  more 
I  learn  of  my  new  religion,  the  more  I 
am  enamoured  of  it; "  and  he  went  to  the 
chamber-door  and  knocked. 

"Beloved,"  he  said,  and  waited. 

He  knocked  again,  and  again  he  said, 
"Beloved." 

"Who  art  thou?"came  a  voice. 

C"T  is  I,  Abdullah,"  he  said. 

"Enter," said  the  voice. 

"Not  so,"  said  Abdullah;  "  but  come 
you  out." 

[  "59] 


T'he  Desert 

"Art  thou  alone?"  asked  the  voice. 

"No,"  replied  Abdullah,  "the  man 
who  keeps  goats  is  here." 

"  I  have  no  light,"  said  the  voice. 

Abdullah  took  the  taper  from  the  table, 
opened  the  door  six  inches,  felt  a  warm 
soft  hand  meet  his  own,  pressed  it,  left 
the  taper  in  it,  closed  the  door,  and  groped 
in  darkness  to  his  seat. 

"  Father,"  he  said,  after  some  moments 
of  silence, "  have  women  souls?" 

"Doubtless,"  answered  the  priest. 

"God  help  them,"  said  Abdullah; 
"have  they  not  trouble  enough,  without 
souls  to  save?" 

The  two  men  sat  silent  in  the  darkness. 

The  door  creaked,  a  line  of  light  ap 
peared;  the  door  swung  wide  out,  and 
on  the  threshold  stood  Nicha,  the  taper 
in  her  hand. 

The  two  men  sat  silent,  gazing. 
[  160] 


The  Desert 

She  had  put  off  her  outer  costume  of 
white  linen  and  stood  dressed  for  the 
house,  the  seraglio.  Upon  her  head  was 
a  chachia^  a  little  velvet  cap,  embroidered 
with  seed-pearls.  Her  bust  was  clothed 
with  a  r/i/a,  or  bolero  of  brocaded  silk,  be 
neath  which  was  a  vest  of  muslin,  heavy 
with  gold  buttons.  About  her  slim  waist 
was  a  fouta^  or  scarf  of  striped  silk.  Be 
low  came  the  serroual^  wide  trousers  of 
white  silk  that  ended  mid-leg.  Upon  her 
feet  were  blue  velvet  slippers,  pointed, 
turned  up  at  the  toes  and  embroidered 
with  gold.  About  her  ankles  were  redeefs^ 
orbangles  of  emeralds,  pierced,  and  strung 
on  common  string.  At  her  wrists  hung  a 
multitude  of  bangles,  and  on  her  bare  left 
arm,  near  the  shoulder,  was  a  gold  wire 
that  pinched  the  flesh,  and  from  it  hung  a 
filigree  medallion  that  covered  her  crest, 
tattooed  beneath  the  skin.  It  is  always  so 
[  161  ] 


The  Desert 

with  the  tribe  of  Ouled  Nail. 

This  was  the  costume  of  the  woman, 
but  the  woman  herself,  as  she  stood  in 
the  doorway,  the  taper  in  her  hand,  who 
may  describe  her?  Tall,  lithe,  laughing — 
her  black  hair,  braided,  tied  behind  her 
neck,  and  still  reaching  the  ground;  her 
eyebrows  straight  as  though  pencilled; 
her  ears  small  and  closely  set;  her  nose 
straight  and  thin,  with  fluttering  nostrils; 
her  shoulders  sloping;  her  bust  firm  and 
pulsating  beneath  her  linen  vest;  her  slen 
der  waist;  her  little  feet,  in  the  blue  vel 
vet  slippers;  the  charm  of  breeding  and 
of  youth;  the  added  charm  of  jewels  and 
of  soft  textures;  what  wonder  that  the 
two  men  sat  silent  and  gazing? 

Abdullah  spoke  first.  "Beloved,"  he 
said,  "  I  have  broken  your  night's  rest 
that  you  may  have  eternal  rest." 

The  girl  laughed.  "  That  is  a  long  way 


'The  Desert 

off,"  she  said.  "The  cemetery,  with  the 
cypress-trees,  is  beautiful,  but  this  hut, 
with  thee,  is  better.  Why  did  you  wake 
me?" 

"Because,  since  you  slept,"  said  Ab 
dullah,  "I  have  changed  my  religion." 

"Good,"  exclaimed  the  girl;  "then  I 
change  mine.  I  am  tired  of  a  religion  that 
makes  me  plait  my  hair  for  eight  hours 
of  the  day  and  sends  no  man  to  see  it." 

"What  religion  do  you  choose?"  asked 
Abdullah. 

"Yours,"  said  the  girl,  seating  herself 
and  dropping  her  hands,  interlaced,  and 
covered  with  turquoise  rings,  about  her 
knees;  "why  should  a  woman  question 
anything  when  her  husband  has  passed 
upon  it?" 

"Did  I  not  tell  thee?"  said  Abdullah. 

"Yes,"  said  the  priest,  "but  I  waited 
for  her  own  words." 


The  Desert 

"  You  have  them  now,"  said  Abdullah, 
and  they  went  out  to  the  spring. 

"I  name  thee  Marie,"  said  the  priest, 
"since  it  is  the  name  borne  by  the  Mother 
of  our  Lord." 

"Ah,"  said  the  girl,  "I  was  baptized 
Fathma,  after  the  Mother  of  the  Prophet. 
There  seems  to  be  not  so  much  difference 
thus  far." 

When  the  sacrament  had  been  admin 
istered  and  they  had  returned  to  the  hut, 
the  priest  addressed  his  converts.  "  My 
children,"  he  said,  "in  order  to  do  a  great 
right  I  have  done  a  little  wrong.  I  have 
baptized  you  into  a  religion  that  you  know 
nothing  of.  How  should  you?  You,  Ab 
dullah — I  beg  your  pardon,  Philip — that 
was  the  name  I  gave  you,  was  it  not?" 

Abdullah  bowed. 

"You,  Philip,"  resumed  the  priest, 
"  have  changed  your  religion  to  win  a  wo- 


The  Desert 

man  whom  you  love;  and  you,  Marie, 
have  changed  yours  because  the  man  you 
love  bade  you.  Neither  of  you  knows  any 
thing  of  the  faith  you  have  adopted.  I 
have  had  no  chance  to  instruct  you;  but 
one  thing  I  declare  to  you,  the  Christian 
religion  tolerates  but  one  husband  and 
one  wife." 

Nicha  rose,  pale,  hesitating.  She 
stepped  slowly  into  the  light.  Her  beauty 
added  to  the  light. 

"Beloved,"  she  said, "knew  you  this?" 

"No,"  he  said,  "but  I  know  it  now, 
and  welcome  it." 

"Oh,  my  beloved,"  she  cried,  "to 
think  that  you  are  all  my  own,  that  I 
do  not  have  to  share  you,"  and  she  flung 
her  arms  about  him. 

"Hush,"  said  the  priest,  "or,  as  Philip 
says,  you  will  wake  the  camels." 

"Father,"  asked  Abdullah,  "will  you 
[  165  ] 


The  Desert 

now  marry  us,  since  we  are  Christians?" 

"I  would,"  answered  the  priest,  "but 
it  is  necessary  to  have  two  witnesses." 

Abdullah's  face  fell,  but  in  an  instant 
it  brightened  again.  He  went  to  the  door 
of  the  hut  and  stood,  listening.  In  a 
moment  he  turned  and  said,  "Allah  is 
good,  or,  rather,  God  is  good.  This  new 
religion  works  well.  Here  are  our  wit 
nesses." 

And,  even  as  he  spoke,  there  came  out 
of  the  darkness  the  halt-cry  of  the  camel- 
driver. 

"It  is  Ali,"  said  Abdullah,  "and 
Nicha's  maid  is  with  him.  They  have 
caught  us  up." 

He  ran  out  and  found  the  camels  kneel 
ing  and  Ali  easing  the  surcingles. 

"Ali,"  he  cried,  "you  must  change 
your  religion." 

"Willingly,"  said  Ali;  "what  shall  the 
[  166] 


The  Desert 

new  one  be?  The  old  one  has  done  little 
for  me." 

"Christian,"  said  Abdullah. 

"That  suits  me,"  said  Ali;  "under  it 
one  may  drink  wine,  and  one  may  curse. 
It  is  a  useful  religion  for  a  trader." 

"And  the  maid?"  asked  Abdullah. 

"  We  have  travelled  a  day  and  a  part  of 
a  night  together,"  said  Ali,  "  and  she  will 
believe  what  I  tell  her  to  believe." 

"The  old  religion  is  good  in  some  re 
spects,"  said  Abdullah.  "Call  the  maid;" 
and  they  went  to  the  hut. 

"  Here  are  the  witnesses,"  said  Abdul 
lah,  "ready  to  be  Christians." 

"  It  is  not  necessary,"  said  the  priest, 
"if  they  can  make  their  mark;  that  is  all 
that  is  required." 

So,  in  the  little  hut,  before  an  impro 
vised  altar,  they  were  married  —  the 
camel-driver  and  the  daughter  of  the 

[  -67  ] 


*The  Desert 

Chief  of  Ouled  Nail. 

The  next  morning  the  caravan  took 
up  the  march  for  Biskra. 

THE  MOTHER  OF  THE  ALMEES 

IT  was  the  great  fast  of  Rhamadan,  and 
the  square  of  Biskra  was  crowded  with 
white-robed  men  waiting  for  the  sun  to 
set  that  they  might  eat. 

The  rough  pavement  was  dotted  with 
fires  over  which  simmered  pots  filled 
with  what  only  a  very  jealous  God  in 
deed  would  have  called  food.  About 
them  were  huddled  the  traders  from  the 
bazaars,  the  camel-drivers  from  the  des 
ert,  the  water-carriers  from  Bab  el  Derb. 
Each  man  held  a  cigarette  in  his  left  hand 
and  a  match  in  his  right.  He  would  smoke 
before  he  ate. 

In  the  long  arcades  the  camels,  in  from 
the  Soudan,  knelt,  fasting.  An  Arab  led 
[  168  ] 


The  Desert 

a  tame  lion  into  the  square  and  the  beast 
held  back  on  his  chain  as  he  passed  the 
flesh-pots,  for  he,  too,  was  fasting.  Crowds 
of  little  children  stood  about  the  circle  of 
the  fires,  fasting.  A  God  was  being  pla 
cated  by  the  sufferings  of  His  creatures. 

There  is  little  twilight  in  the  latitude 
of  Biskra.  There  is  the  hard,  white  light 
of  the  daytime,  five  minutes  of  lavender 
and  running  shadows,  and  then  the  pur 
ple  blackness  of  the  night. 

The  mueddin  took  his  place  on  the 
minaret  of  the  mosque.  His  shadow  ran 
to  the  centre  of  the  square  and  stopped. 
He  cried  his  admonition,  each  white- 
robed  figure  bowed  to  the  earth  in  sup 
plication,  a  cannon-shot  at  the  citadel 
split  the  hot  air,  and  in  an  instant  the 
square  was  dotted  with  sparks.  Each 
worshipper  had  struck  his  match.  The 
fast  was  over  until  sunrise. 
[  169  ] 


The  Desert 

The  silence  became  a  Babel.  All  fell  to 
eating  and  to  talking.  A  marabout,  grace 
ful  as  a  Greek  statue,  came  out  of  the 
mosque  and  made  his  way  among  the  fires. 
As  he  passed,  the  squatting  Mussulmans 
caught  at  his  robe  and  kissed  it.  Mirza, 
the  mother  of  the  Almee  girls,  her  golden 
necklaces  glinting  in  the  firelight,  came 
walking  by.  As  she  passed  the  marabout 
he  drew  back  and  held  his  white  burnoose 
across  his  face.  She  bent  her  knee  and  then 
went  on,  but  as  she  passed  she  laughed 
and  whispered,  "Which  trade  pays  best, 
yours  or  mine? "  and  she  shook  her  neck 
laces. 

"  Daughter,"  said  the  marabout, "  there 
is  but  one  God." 

"Yes,"  she  replied,  "but  He  has  many 
prophets,  and,  of  them  all,  you  are  the 
most  beautiful, "and  she  went  on. 

An  officer  of  spahis  rode  in  and,  stop- 
[  170  ] 


The  Desert 

ping  his  horse  before  the  arched  door  of 
the  commandant,  stood  motionless.  The 
square  was  filled  with  color,  with  life, 
with  foreignness,  with  the  dancing  flames, 
the  leaping  shadows,  the  fumes  of  the 
cook-pots,  the  odor  of  Arabian  tobacco, 
the  clamor  of  all  the  dialecls  of  North 
Africa. 

A  bugle  sounded.  Out  of  a  side  street 
trotted  a  cavalcade.  The  iron  shoes  of  the 
horses  rang  on  the  pavement,  and  the  steel 
chains  of  the  curbs  tinkled.  The  com 
mandant  dismounted  and  gave  his  bridle 
to  his  orderly. 

The  commandant  walked  through  the 
square.  He  wore  a  fatigue  cap,  a  sky- 
blue  blouse,  with  white  loopings,  white 
breeches,  tight  at  the  knee,  and  patent- 
leather  boots,  with  box  spurs.  He  walked 
through  the  square  slowly,  smoking  cig 
arette  after  cigarette.  He  was  not  only 


'The  Desert 

the  commandant  but  he  was  the  commis 
sioner  of  police.  With  seventy  men  he 
ruled  ten  thousand,  and  he  knew  his  weak 
ness.  The  knowledge  of  his  weakness  was 
his  strength. 

As  he  walked  through  the  square  he 
met  Mirza.  He  passed  her  without  a  sign 
of  recognition  and  she,  on  her  part,  was 
looking  at  the  minaret  of  the  mosque. 

In  their  official  capacities  they  were 
strangers.  On  certain  occasions,  when  the 
commandant  was  in  muftl^  they  had,  at 
least,  passed  the  time  of  day.  The  com 
mandant  walked  through  the  long  rows 
of  fires,  speaking  to  a  merchant  here,  nod 
ding  to  a  date-grower  there,  casting  quick 
glances  and  saying  nothing  to  the  spies 
who,  mingling  with  the  people,  sat  about 
the  kouss-kouss  pots,  and  reported  to  the 
commandant,  each  morning,  the  date  set 
for  his  throat-cutting.  This  was  many 


'The  Desert 

years  ago,  before  there  was  a  railroad  to 
Biskra. 

The  commandant,  having  made  the 
round  of  the  fires,  crossed  over  to  his 
house  under  the  arcades.  He  dismissed 
the  sergeant  and  the  guard,  and  they  rode 
away  to  the  barracks,  the  hoof-beats  dy 
ing  in  the  distance.  The  spahi  remained, 
silent,  motionless.  The  commandant  was 
about  to  enter  his  door,  when  a  man 
sprang  from  behind  one  of  the  pillars  of 
the  arcade  and  held  out  to  him  a  paper. 
The  commandant  put  his  hands  behind 
his  back.  The  spahi  edged  his  horse  up 
closely. 

"Who  are  you? "asked  the  comman 
dant,  in  French. 

The  man  shook  his  head,  but  still  held 
out  the  paper. 

"Who  are  you?"  asked  the  comman 
dant  again,  but  now  in  Arabic. 


'The  Desert 

"  I  am  Ali,  the  slave  of  Abdullah," 
answered  the  man,  "  and  he  sends  you 
this  letter." 

The  commandant  remained  motion 
less.  "Will  your  horse  stand,  corporal?" 
he  asked  of  the  spahi. 

"Perfectly,  my  colonel." 

"  Leave  him,  then,"  said  the  comman 
dant,  "and  bring  one  of  your  pistols." 

The  spahi  gathered  his  long  blue  cloak 
off  the  quarters  of  his  horse,  took  a  revol 
ver  from  its  holster,  swung  his  right  leg 
over  his  horse's  head,  so  that  he  might 
not  for  an  instant  turn  his  back,  threw 
the  reins  over  his  horse's  neck,  brought 
the  heels  of  his  red  boots  together,  sa 
luted,  and  stood  silent. 

The  horse  began  to  play  with  the  pen 
dant  reins  and  to  shift  his  loosened  bit. 

"Go  in,"  said  the  commandant,  and 
the  spahi  opened  the  door.  "You  next," 
[  '74] 


The  Desert 

and  All  followed.  The  commandant 
brought  up  the  rear. 

They  entered  at  once  not  a  hall  but  a 
room.  So  all  Eastern  houses  are  ordered. 
A  lamp  was  burning,  the  walls  were  hung 
with  maps  of  France  and  of  North  Africa, 
a  few  shelves  held  a  few  books  and  many 
tin  cases  labelled  "Forage,"  "Hospital," 
"Police."  Behind  a  desk  sat  a  little  man, 
dressed  in  black,  who  was  dealing  cards  to 
himself  in  a  game  of  solitaire.  He  rose  and 
bowed  when  the  commandant  entered, 
and  then  he  went  on  with  his  game. 

"Stand  there,"  said  the  commandant, 
pointing  to  a  corner,  "and  put  your 
hands  over  your  head." 

Ali  obeyed. 

"Search  him,"  said  the  commandant. 

The  spa  hi  began  at  Ali's  hair  and  ended 
with  his  sandals. 

"He  has  nothing,"  he  reported. 

[  175] 


The  Desert 

"Now  give  me  the  letter,"  said  the 
commandant. 

All  twisted  himself,  fumbled  at  his 
waist,  and  drew  out  a  knife.  He  placed 
it  on  the  desk,  smiling. 

"  Do  not  blame  the  corporal  for  over 
looking  this,"  he  said;  "I  am  so  thin 
from  the  journey  that  he  took  it  for  one 
of  my  ribs." 

"I  will  trust  you,"  said  the  comman 
dant,  and  he  took  the  letter. 

The  little  man  in  black  kept  dealing 
solitaire. 

The  commandant  read  the  letter  to 
himself  and  laughed,  and  then  he  read 
it  aloud: 

"70  Monsieur  the  COUNT  D'APREMONT, 
Commandant  at  Biskra. 

MONSIEUR:    Since    last    I    saw 
you  strange  things  have  happened.  I 


'The  Desert 

"  have  turned  Christian,  and  I  have  mar- 
"  ried.  I  wonder  at  -which  of  these  statements 
^you  will  laugh  most. 

"  May  I  bring  my  wife  to  your  house  ? 
"  She  will  be  the  only  Christian  woman  in 
"  Biskra.  Say  ''yes''  or  'no'  to  the  bearer.  I 
"  am  halted  a  mile  outside  of  the  town,  await- 
"  ing  your  answer. 

"  Mirza,  the  mother  of  the  Almees,  has 
"  a  certain  claim  upon  my  wife ;  how  valid  I 
"  do  not  know.  I  need  counsel,  but  first  of 
'•'•all  I  need  shelter.  May  I  come  ? 

"ABDULLAH." 

"Of  course  he  may  come,"  said  the 
commandant;  "what  is  to  prevent?" 

"The law, perhaps,"  said  the  little  man 
in  black,  shuffling  the  cards. 

The  commandant  turned  quickly. 
"Why  the  law,  Monsieur  the  Chancel 
lor?"  he  asked. 

[  177  ] 


'The  Desert 

"Because,"  answered  the  little  man, 
still  shuffling  the  cards,  "he  says  that 
Mirza  has  a  certain  claim  upon  his  wife, 
how  valid  he  does  not  know ;  and  he  needs 
counsel  and  he  needs  shelter.  When  a  man 
writes  like  this,  he  also  needs  a  lawyer;" 
and  he  commenced  a  new  deal. 

The  commandant  stood  a  moment, 
thinking.  Then  he  raised  his  head  with  a 
jerk,  and  said  to  Ali:  "Tell  your  master 
that  I  say  'yes." 

Ali  made  salaam  and  glided  from  the 
room. 

"  He  has  left  his  knife,"  said  the  lawyer. 

The  commandant  turned  to  the  spahi. 
"Corporal,"  he  said,  "go  to  the  citadel 
and  bring  back  twelve  men.  Place  six  of 
them  at  the  entrance  of  the  square,  and 
six  of  them  before  my  house.  When  Ab 
dullah's  caravan  has  entered  the  square, 
have  the  further  six  close  in  behind.  You 

[  -78] 


The  Desert 

may  take  your  time.  It  will  be  an  hour 
before  you  are  needed." 

The  spahi  saluted,  and  went  out. 

The  commandant  turned  to  the  little 
man  in  black. 

"Why  in  the  world,"  he  asked,  "did 
you  objecl:  to  my  harboring  Abdullah  ?  He 
is  my  friend  and  yours.  He  is  the  best  man 
that  crosses  the  desert.  He  has  eaten  our 
salt  many  times.  If  all  here  were  like  him, 
you  and  I  might  go  home  to  France,  with 
our  medals  and  our  pensions." 

"True,"  said  the  lawyer,  gathering  his 
cards,  "  and  very  likely  there  is  no  risk  in 
harboring  him  and  his  wife."  He  shuffled 
the  cards  mechanically,  his  eyes  fixed  on 
the  opposite  wall. 

"My  friend,"  he  said, at  length, "whom 
do  you  consider  the  most  powerful  person 
in  Biskra,  the  person  to  be  first  reckoned 
with?" 


'The  Desert 

The  commandant  laughed.  "As  I  am 
in  command,"  he  said,  "I  should  be 
court-martialled  if  I  denied  my  own  su 
periority." 

"And  yet,"  said  the  lawyer,  "you  are 
only  a  poor  second." 

The  commandant,  who  was  sitting 
astride  of  his  chair,  his  hands  upon  its 
back,  demi-vaulted  as  if  he  were  in  the 
saddle  of  a  polo  pony. 

"What  do  you  mean?"  he  demanded. 

The  lawyer  kept  shuffling  the  cards, 
but  he  paid  no  attention  to  them. 

"  Go  to  the  window,"  he  said, "  and  tell 
me  what  you  see." 

The  commandant  rose,  and  went  to  the 
window,  his  spurs  jingling.  He  drew  the 
curtain  and  looked  out. 

"What  do  you  see?"  asked  the  coun 
sellor. 

"  I  see  the  square,"  answered  the  com- 


'The  Desert 

mandant,  "with  five  hundred  kettle- 
lights,  and  three  thousand  Mussulmans 
gorging  themselves,  making  up  lost 
time." 

"  Look  over  at  the  left  corner,"  said  the 
lawyer. 

"I  see  the  mosque,"  said  the  com 
mandant,  "with  its  lamps  burning." 

"There  you  have  it,"  cried  the  lawyer. 
"This  religion  that  you  and  I  are  sent  to 
conquer  keeps  its  lamps  burning  con 
stantly,  while  the  religion  that  comes  to 
conquer  lights  its  candles  only  for  the 
mass.  Mankind  loves  light  and  warmth. 
What  do  you  see  now?" 

"I  see  Mirza,"  replied  the  comman 
dant;  "she  is  walking  up  the  centre  line 
of  the  fires.  Now  she  stops.  She  meets 
a  man,  draws  him  hurriedly  aside,  and  is 
speaking  close  to  his  ear." 

"Has  he  a  green  turban?"  asked  the 
[  ,81  ] 


'The  Desert 

lawyer.  "Has  he  been  to  Mecca?" 

"Yes,"  answered  the  commandant. 

"There  you  see  the  most  powerful 
person  in  Biskra,"  said  the  counsellor. 

"Who?"  asked  the  commandant. 
"The  man  in  the  green  turban?" 

"No,"  said  the  lawyer,  "the  woman 
he  is  speaking  to." 

"  Mirza? "  exclaimed  the  commandant. 

"Yes,"  said  the  lawyer.  "The  centre 
of  affairs,  since  the  world  was  sent  spin 
ning,  has  always  been  a  woman.  Who 
placed  the  primal  curse  of  labor  on  the 
race?  Was  it  the  man,  Adam,  or  the  wo 
man,  Eve?" 

"As  I  remember,"  said  the  comman 
dant,  "the  serpent  was  the  prime  mover 
in  that  affair." 

"Yes,"  said  the  lawyer;  "but  being 
'more  subtile  than  any  beast  in  the  field,' 
he  knew  that  if  he  caught  the  woman 
[  182  ] 


'The  Desert 

the  man  would  follow  of  his  own  accord. 
Julius  Cssar  and  Antony  were  dwarfed  by 
Cleopatra.  Helen  of  Troy  set  the  world 
ablaze.  Joan  of  Arc  saved  France.  Catha 
rine  I  saved  Peter  the  Great.  Catharine 
II  made  Russia.  Marie  Antoinette  ruled 
Louis  XVI  and  lost  a  crown  and  her  head. 
Fat  Anne  of  England  and  Sarah  Jennings 
united  England  and  Scotland.  Eugenie 
and  the  milliners  lost  Alsace  and  Lorraine. 
Victoria  made  her  country  the  mistress 
of  the  world.  I  have  named  many  women 
who  have  played  great  parts  in  this  drama 
which  we  call  life.  How  many  of  them 
were  good  women?  By  'good'  I  do  not 
mean  virtuous,  but  simply  'good." 

"Out  of  your  list,"  said  the  comman 
dant,  "I  should  name  Joan  of  Arc  and 
Victoria." 

"A  woman,"  repeated  the  lawyer,  "is 
the  centre  of  every  affair.  When  you  go 

[  183  ] 


The  Desert 

back  to  France,  what  are  you  looking  for 
ward  to?" 

"My  wife's  kiss,"  said  the  comman 
dant.  "And  you,  since  you  are  a  bache 
lor?" 

"The  scolding  of  my  housekeeper," 
said  the  lawyer,  and  he  shrugged  his 
shoulders. 

The  commandant  laughed.  "  But  what 
of  Mirza?"  he  asked.  "Why  is  she  so 
powerful?" 

"  For  the  same  reason  that  your  wife 
and  my  housekeeper  are  powerful,"  said 
the  lawyer;  "she  is  a  woman." 

"A  woman  here,"  said  the  comman 
dant,  "is  a  slave." 

"A  good  woman,  I  grant  you,"  said  the 
lawyer,  "  but  a  bad  woman,  if  she  chance 
to  be  beautiful,  is  an  empress.  Do  you 
know  how  many  men  it  takes  to  officer  a 
mosque  of  the  first  class,  such  a  one  as  we 
[  184  ] 


'The  Desert 

have  here?  Twelve,"  and  he  dropped  the 
cards  and  began  to  count  his  fingers. "  Two 
mueddinS)  the  chaps  that  call  to  prayer; 
two  tolbas^  who  read  the  litanies;  two  hez- 
•zabin,  who  read  the  Koran;  a  mufti^  who 
interprets  the  law;  a  khetib^  who  recites 
the  prayer  for  the  chief  of  the  govern 
ment  each  Friday,  and  who  is  very  un 
popular;  an  iman^  who  reads  the  five  daily 
prayers;  a  chaouch^  who  is  a  secretary  to 
the  last  of  the  list,  the  oufa'/,  who  collects 
the  funds  and  pays  them  out.  The  oukil 
is  the  man  who  governs  the  mosque.  He  is 
the  man  in  the  green  turban  whom  you 
saw  talking  with  Mirza.  They  are  part 
ners.  He  attends  to  the  world,  she  to  the 
flesh,  and  both  to  the  devil.  It  is  a  strong 
partnership.  It  is  what,  in  America,  they 
call  a  'trust.'  The  oukil  sends  his  clients 
to  Mirza,  and  she  sends  hers  to  the  oukil. 
Look  out  of  the  window  again.  There 

[  '85  ] 


'The  Desert 

are  three  thousand  religionists  who  have 
passed  through  the  hands  of  the  oukil  and 
Mirza,  and  she,  making  the  most  money, 
has  the  last  word.  Do  you  ask,  now,  why 
she  is  the  most  powerful  person  in  Biskra? " 

"It  seems,"  said  the  commandant, 
"that  it  is  because  she  is  a  woman,  and 
is  bad." 

"And  beautiful,"  added  the  lawyer. 

"Do  you  think  her  beautiful?"  asked 
the  commandant. 

The  lawyer  thought  a  moment.  "Did 
you  ever  see  a  hunting-leopard?"  he 
asked. 

"No,"  said  the  commandant. 

"I  used  to  see  them,"  said  the  lawyer, 
"  when  I  was  in  Sumatra,  looking  after  the 
affairs  of  some  Frenchmen  who  were  buy 
ing  pearls  from  the  oyster-beds  of  Arippo. 
They  were  horribly  beautiful.  Mirza  re 
minds  me  of  them,  especially  when  she 


The  Desert 

seizes  her  prey.  Most  beasts  of  prey  are 
satisfied  when  they  have  killed  all  that 
they  can  devour;  but  the  hunting-leopard 
kills  because  she  loves  to  kill.  So  does 
Mirza.  She  destroys  because  she  loves  to 
destroy.  A  hunting-leopard  and  Mirza  are 
the  only  two  absolutely  cruel  creatures  I 
have  ever  seen.  Of  course,"  he  added,  "I 
eliminate  the  English,  who  deem  the  day 
misspent  unless  they  have  killed  some 
thing,  and  who  give  infinite  pains  and 
tenderness  to  the  raising  of  pheasants,  that 
they  may  slaughter  a  record  number  of 
them  at  a  battue.  Aside  from  a  hunting- 
leopard  and  a  hunting-Englishman,  I 
know  of  no  being  so  cruel  as  Mirza;  no 
being  that  takes  such  delight  in  mere  ex 
termination.  They  used  to  call  our  nobil 
ity,  in  the  time  of  Louis  XIV  and  Louis 
XV,  cruel,  but  they  did  not  kill,  they 
merely  taxed.  In  the  height  of  the  ancient 

[  is?] 


'The  Desert 

regime^  it  was  not  good  form  to  kill  a  peas 
ant,  because  then  the  country  had  one  less 
taxpayer.  The  height  of  the  art  was  to 
take  all  the  peasant  had  and  then  to  in 
duce  him  to  set  to  work  again.  When  he 
had  earned  another  surplus,  his  lord  came 
and  took  it.  France  had  an  accomplished 
nobility.  England  had  a  brutal  one.  The 
latter  used  to  take  all  the  eggs  out  of  the 
nest  and  then  kill  the  hen.  The  French 
noble  took  all  the  eggs  but  one  or  two, 
and  spared  the  hen.  He  could  rob  a  nest 
a  dozen  times  and  his  English  contempo 
rary  could  rob  it  but  once." 

"My  friend,"  said  the  commandant, 
laughing,  "you  reassure  me.  When  you 
begin  comparing  England  with  France,  I 
know  that  you  have  nothing  of  impor 
tance  at  hand  and  that  your  mind  is  kick 
ing  up  its  heels  in  vacation.  You  have  a 
charming  mind,  my  friend,  but  it  has  been 


The  Desert 

prostituted  to  the  law.  If  you  had  been 
bred  a  soldier — " 

He  stopped,  because  the  murmur  of  the 
square  suddenly  stopped.  The  cessation 
of  a  familiar  clamor  is  more  startling  than 
a  sudden  cry.  The  two  men  ran  to  the 
window.  The  fires  under  the  pots  were 
still  burning  and  the  square  was  light  as 
day.  At  the  opposite  side,  where  the 
caravan  road  debouched,  three  thousand 
white-robed  Mussulmans  stood,  silent. 
Above  them  the  commandant  and  the 
lawyer  could  see  the  heads  of  the  six 
spahis,  they  and  their  horses  silent.  Be 
yond,  were  the  heads  of  many  camels. 
The  commandant  threw  up  the  sash. 
Across  the  silent  square  came  a  woman's 
voice,  speaking  Arabic  in  the  dialeft  of 
Ouled  Nail. 

"That  is  Mirza,"  said  the  lawyer. 

Then  there  came  a  man's  voice,  evi- 


The  Desert 

dently  in  reply. 

"That  is  Abdullah,"  said  the  lawyer. 

"  How  can  you  distinguish  at  this  dis 
tance?"  asked  the  commandant. 

The  lawyer  shrugged  his  shoulders. 
"While  you  are  drilling  your  soldiers," 
he  said,  "  I  am  drilling  myself.  If  a  man 
yonder  sneezes,  I  can  name  his  tribe.  A 
sneeze,  being  involuntary,  cannot  be  arti 
ficial,  and  therefore  it  is  the  true  index 
of  race  and  character.  Take  the  Oriental 
Express  any  night  from  Paris  to  Vienna. 
If  you  will  sit  up  late  enough  and  walk 
up  and  down  the  aisle,  you  may  tell  from 
the  sneezes  and  the  coughs  the  national 
ity  of  the  occupant  of  each  berth.  A  Ger 
man  sneezes  with  all  his  might,  and  if 
there  is  a  compatriot  within  hearing  he 
says,  '  Gesundheit?  An  Italian  sneezes  as 
if  it  were  a  crime,  with  his  hand  over 
his  face." 


'The  Desert 

"Hush,"  said  the  commandant. 

Out  from  the  white-robed  crowd  came 
two  forms,  Mirza  and  the  oukil.  Mirza 
held  a  paper  in  her  hand.  They  went  to 
the  nearest  fire  and  Mirza  gave  the  paper 
to  the  man  with  the  green  turban.  He 
read  it,  thought  a  moment,  read  it  again, 
and  then  the  two  went  back  to  the  silent 
crowd  by  the  mosque.  There  was  con 
versation,  there  were  vehement  exclama 
tions  which,  if  they  had  been  in  Eng 
lish,  would  have  been  oaths  —  there  was 
a  sudden  movement  of  the  horses  and 
the  camels;  the  outskirts  of  the  crowd 
surged  and  broke,  and  then,  above  their 
heads,  flashed  the  sabres  of  the  spahis. 

The  commandant  went  to  the  door. 
"Corporal,"  he  said,  "take  your  men  to 
the  mosque,  join  your  comrades,  and  bring 
to  me  Abdullah,  his  wife,  Mirza,  and  the 
oukil" 


Desert 


The  corporal  saluted,  gave  an  order, 
and  the  little  troop  trotted  across  the 
square.  The  commandant  closed  the  shut 
ters  of  the  window. 

"I  do  not  care  to  see  the  row,"  he  said, 
and  he  lit  a  cigarette.  But  if  he  did  not 
see  the  row,  he  heard  it,  for  presently 
came  the  yelp  and  snarl  of  an  Oriental 
mob. 

"It  is  growing  warm,"  said  the  com 
mandant.  "Hospitality  cannot  be  lightly 
practised  here." 

"  Nor  anywhere,"  said  the  lawyer,  who 
had  resumed  his  cards;  "because  it  is  a 
virtue,  and  the  virtues  are  out  of  vogue. 
The  only  really  successful  life,  as  the  world 
looks  upon  success  now,  is  an  absolutely 
selfish  life.  It  is  the  day  of  specialists,  of 
men  with  one  idea,  one  object,  and  the 
successful  man  is  the  one  who  permits 
nothing  to  come  between  him  and  his 


The  Desert 

object.  Wife,  children,  honor,  friendship, 
ease,  all  must  give  place  to  the  grand  pur 
suit;  be  it  the  gathering  of  wealth,  the 
discovery  of  a  disease  germ,  the  culture 
of  orchids,  or  the  breeding  of  a  honey 
bee  that  works  night  and  day.  Human  life 
is  too  short  to  permit  a  man  to  do  more 
than  one  thing  well,  and  money  is  be 
coming  so  common  that  its  possessors 
require  the  best  of  everything." 

"Old  friend,"  said  the  commandant, 
"  you  are  a  many-sided  man,  and  yet 
you  are  one  of  the  best  lawyers  in 
France." 

"  You  have  said  it,"  exclaimed  the 
lawyer;  "one  of  the  best,  not  the  best. 
The  one  thing  I  have  earnestly  striven 
for  I  have  not  attained." 

"What  is  that?"  asked  the  comman 
dant.  "Do  you  wish  to  be  Minister  of 
Justice?" 

[  193  ] 


'The  Desert 

"No,"  said  the  lawyer;  "but  I  should 
like  to  be  known  as  the  best  player  of 
Napoleon  solitaire." 

A  sabre-hilt  rapped  on  the  door. 

"Enter,"  cried  the  commandant. 

The  door  opened,  and  there  entered 
first  the  sharp  cries  of  the  mob,  and  then 
the  corporal,  Abdullah,  a  woman  clothed 
all  in  white,  the  oukil,  and,  last  of  all, 
Mirza.  The  moment  she  was  within  the 
room  she  dominated  it.  The  other  occu 
pants  were  blotted  out  by  comparison. 
She  entered,  debonair,  smiling,  and,  as  she 
crossed  the  threshold,  she  flung  up  her 
hand  in  a  military  salute. 

"  Hail,  my  masters,"  she  cried  in  Ara 
bic.  "Would  you  believe  it?  but  just 
now  I  was  nearly  robbed,  before  your 
windows,  of  merchandise  that  cost  me 
thirty  ounces." 

"Be  good  enough  to  speak  French," 

[  194  ] 


'The  Desert 

said  the  commandant;  "it  is  the  etiquette 
of  the  office." 

"And  to  you?"  exclaimed  Mirza,  in 
the  speech  of  Paris,  "to  you,  who  speak 
such  charming  Arabic.  It  was  only  last 
week,  the  evening  you  did  me  the  honor 
of  supping  with  me,  that  Miriam —  per 
haps  you  will  pay  her  the  compliment 
of  remembering  her — the  little  girl  who 
played  and  danced  for  you,  and  who, 
when  you  were  going,  hooked  on  your 
sword  for  you,  and  gave  you  a  light  from 
her  cigarette?  —  well,  Miriam  said,  when 
you  were  gone, '  It  is  a  pity  the  gracious 
commandant  speaks  any  language  save 
Arabic,  he  speaks  that  so  convincingly.' 
What  could  you  have  whispered  to  her, 
Monsieur  le  Commandant,  as  you  left 
my  poor  house? " 

The  commandant  moved  nervously 
in  his  chair  and  glanced  out  of  the  cor- 

[  195 1 


The  Desert 

ner  of  his  eye  at  the  lawyer,  who  had  re 
sumed  his  cards.  Reassured  by  the  appar 
ent  abstraction  of  his  friend,  the  com 
mandant  gathered  himself  and  essayed  a 
pleasantry. 

"  I  told  her,"  he  said,  "that  if  she  lived 
to  be  twice  her  age,  she  might  be  half  as 
beautiful  as  you." 

Mirza  made  an  exaggerated  courtesy 
and  threw  a  mocking  kiss  from  her  fin 
ger-tips.  "I  thought,"  she  said,  "that  a 
woman's  age  was  something  that  no  well- 
bred  Frenchman  would  speak  of."  Then 
she  drew  herself  up  and  her  face,  from 
mocking,  became  hard  and  cruel. 

"  I  know,"  she  said,  slowly,  "  that  I  am 
old.  I  am  eight-and-twenty.  I  was  a  wife 
at  twelve,  and  a  mother  at  thirteen.  Such 
matters  are  ordered  differently  here,  Mon 
sieur.  A  girl  is  a  woman  before  she  has 
had  any  childhood.  I  married  Ilderhim. 

[  196  ] 


The  Desert 

Of  course,  I  had  never  seen  him  until  we 
stood  before  the  cadi.  I  had  the  misfortune 
to  bear  him  a  daughter,  and  he  cursed  me. 
When  I  was  fourteen,  a  Russian  Grand 
Duke  came  to  Biskra  and  my  husband 
sold  me  to  him.  I  refused  to  submit  my 
self.  Then  Ilderhim  beat  me  and  turned 
me  out  of  his  house.  You  understand, 
Monsieur  le  Commandant,  that  under  our 
blessed  religion  a  man  may  have  as  many 
wives  as  he  chooses  and  may  divorce  them 
when  he  chooses.  Well,  there  I  was,  with 
out  a  husband,  without  a  home,  without 
my  child,  and  I  passed  the  night  in  the  ar 
cades,  among  the  camels.  The  next  morn 
ing  I  went  to  the  hotel  and  asked  for  the 
Grand  Duke.  'Monsieur,'  I  said  to  him, 
'I  am  Mirza.  I  would  not  sell  myself  to 
you,  but  if  you  will  take  me  as  a  gift,  be 
hold,  here  am  I.'  He  took  me  to  Paris,  to 
Vienna,  to  St.  Petersburg.  For  a  year  he 


T'/ie  Desert 

did  not  tire  of  me.  That  was  a  long  time 
for  a  savage  to  amuse  a  Grand  Duke,  was 
it  not?  Then  one  day  he  gave  me  money, 
bade  me  keep  the  jewels  he  had  given  me, 
and  sent  me  back  to  Biskra.  Since  then  I 
have  been,  first  a  dancing-girl,  and  then, 
the  mother  of  them  all.  I  have  never  given 
the  authorities  any  trouble.  I  have  ob 
served  the  laws  of  France.  What  will  the 
laws  of  France  doforme?"andshehanded 
to  the  commandant  the  invoice  which 
Abdullah  had  brought  with  his  freight. 

The  commandant  read  the  paper  and 
his  face  grew  troubled. 

"Chancellor,"  he  said,  "is  this  bind- 
ing?" 

The  lawyer  read  the  paper  twice. 
"Yes,"  he  said,  "it  is  a  mere  hiring;  it 
is  not  a  sale.  I  don't  see  how  we  can  in 
terfere." 

"Mirza,"  said  the  commandant,  "it 
[  198  ] 


The  Desert 

seems  that  you  have  a  good  contract,  un 
der  Moslem  law." 

"Excellent,"  cried  the  oukily  rubbing 
his  hands. 

"  Silence,"  thundered  the  commandant. 
"  Speak  French,  and  that  only  when  you 
are  spoken  to.  Abdullah,  have  you  any 
thing  which  you  wish  to  say  to  me?" 

Abdullah  bent  and  whispered  in  the 
ear  of  the  girl  who  sat  trembling;  then 
he  stepped  forward. 

"Monsieur  le  Commandant,"  he  said, 
"will  you  have  the  kindness  to  read 
this?"  and  he  held  out  a  paper.  It  was 
yellow  with  age  and  of  quarto  size  and 
twice  folded.  The  commandant  took  it, 
unfolded  it,  and  read  aloud,  "The  grace  of 
our  Lord  Jesus  Chris  the  with  you  all.  Amen" 

"Why,  this  is  the  last  page  of  a  Bible," 
he  said. 

"I  do  not  know,"  said  Abdullah.  "He 
[  T99  ] 


tore  it  from  a  book  upon  his  table.  It  was 
the  only  paper  that  he  had.  Upon  the 
other  side  is  writing." 

The  commandant  reversed  the  paper 
and  again  read: 

THIS  is  to  Certify  that  on  the  nineteenth 
day  of  February,  187-,  in  the  Oasis 
"  of  Zama,  in  the  Great  Sahara,  having  Jirst 
"  baptized  them,  I  did  unite  in  marriage 
"  Philip  (formerly  Abdullah)  and  Marie 
"  (formerly  NichaJ,  in  accordance  with  the 
"  rites  of  our  holy  Church. 

"JOSEPH, 

"  Who  Keeps  Goats. 
"  Witness, 

his 

"ALi,  the  son  of  All  X 

mark  her 

"  ZINA,  parentage  unknown  X 


her 

X' 

mark 


"Ah,  ha,"  exclaimed  the  lawyer,  "this 
changes  the  complexion  of  affairs,"  and  he 
[  200  ] 


threw  the  cards  upon  the  floor.  "I  could 
swear  to  Joseph's  handwriting,  I  have  his 
I O  U's,  but  as  I  am  now  sitting  as  a  magis 
trate,  I  cannot  swear  to  anything.  Where 
are  the  witnesses,  Abdullah?" 

"  With  the  camels,  across  the  square," 
said  Abdullah;  "if  you  will  permit  the 
corporal  to  go  for  them — " 

"Pardon,"  said  the  oukil;  "if  I  am 
permitted  to  speak  I  can  save  you  the 
trouble.  We  admit  all  that  the  goatherd 
certifies." 

"Then,"  said  the  chancellor,  "you  ad 
mit  yourselves  out  of  court,  since,  if  one 
Christian  marries  another,  the  law  of 
France  obtains,  and  this  contra6l  which 
Mirza  produces  is  abhorrent  to  the  law 
of  France,  being  immoral." 

"Pardon,"  said  the  oukiL  "In  every 
word  you  speak  I  recognize  my  master, 
but  is  it  not  possible  that  my  master 


The  Desert 

may  nod?  As  one  of  a  conquered  people, 
I  have  studied  the  code  of  my  conqueror. 
It  is  true  that  a  religious  ceremony  has 
been  performed  here,  but  how  about  the 
civil  marriage  which,  as  I  read  the  French 
code,  is  absolutely  necessary?" 

The  lawyer  sat  silent.  Then  he  put  out 
his  hand.  "My  friend,"  he  said,  "I  have 
done  you  a  great  wrong.  I  have  looked 
upon  you  as  a  mere  religionist.  It  seems 
that  you  are  a  student.  You  remind  me 
of  my  duty.  I,  as  the  chief  legal  officer 
of  this  colony,  should  marry  these  people 
at  once.  Thank  you  many  times  for  re 
minding  me." 

"  Pardon,"  said  the  oukil;  "  but  if  I  have 
read  the  laws  of  France  aright,  there  can 
not  be  a  civil  marriage  without  the  con 
sent  of  the  parents." 

"My  friend,"  said  the  lawyer,  "will 
you  place  me  doubly  in  your  debt  by 

[    202    ] 


'The  Desert 

shaking  hands  with  me  a  second  time? 
If  you  were  to  exchange  your  green  tur 
ban  for  the  silk  hat  of  the  boulevards, 
your  photograph  would  soon  be  in  the 
shops.  You  know  my  law  much  better 
than  I  know  yours,  and  I  shake  hands 
with  you  intellectually,  not  socially.  Who 
is  your  father,  Abdullah?"  he  asked. 

"I  do  not  know  his  name,"  answered 
Abdullah;  "he  was  a  camel-driver  of  the 
Sahara." 

"  And  your  mother? "  asked  the  lawyer. 

"How  can  one,  born  as  I,  know  his 
mother?"  replied  Abdullah. 

"And  you,"  said  the  lawyer,  turning 
to  Nicha,  "who  is  your  father?  " 

"  Ilderhim  of  El  Merb,"  she  answered. 

"And  your  mother?"  asked  the  law 
yer. 

"  She  died  before  I  can  remember." 

"  Her  father,  Ilderhim,"  said  the  oukil^ 
[  203  ] 


The  Desert 

"signs  the  invoice  which  you  have  read. 
He  does  not  consent.'* 

"  He  is  nobody,"  said  the  lawyer.  "  He 
was  banished  from  Algeria  years  ago.  It 
is  as  though  he  had  never  existed." 

"  I  had  overlooked  that, "said  the  oukll; 
and  then  he  added,  "As  the  mistake  this 
time  is  mine,  perhaps  you  will  again 
shake  hands." 

"No,"  said  the  lawyer;  "I  pay  pen 
ance  only  when  I  am  in  the  wrong." 

The  oukil  bowed  low,  but  when  he 
drew  himself  up  to  his  full  height  there 
was  murder  in  his  eye. 

"  Well,"  said  the  commandant,  "what 
is  the  solution?" 

"I  advise  you,"  said  the  lawyer,  "that 
this  contract  comes  under  the  law  of 
France  and  is  void,  because  it  is  immoral 
and  opposed  to  public  policy.  It  comes 
under  the  law  of  France  because  the 
[  204  ] 


T'ke  Desert 

young  woman  is  a  Christian  and  has  mar 
ried  a  Christian.  The  religious  marriage 
is  complete.  The  civil  marriage  is  only 
delayed  that  the  young  woman  may  pre 
sent  proofs  of  her  mother's  death.  Her 
father  is  already  civilly  dead." 

"Mirza,"  said  the  commandant,  "do 
you  hear?" 

"Yes,"  she  said,  "I  hear,  and,  being  a 
woman,  I  am  accustomed  to  such  deci 
sions.  I  pay  thirty  ounces  to  Ilderhim  for 
two  years'  hire  of  a  girl.  The  girl  turns 
Christian  and  I  lose  the  thirty  ounces." 

"Not  so,"  said  Abdullah;  "they  are 
here,"  and  he  placed  a  bag  upon  the 
commandant's  table. 

"Take  it,"  said  Mirza;  and  she  tossed 
it  to  the  oukil. 

"  To  make  his  contract  good,"  she  con 
tinued,  "  Ilderhim,  my  former  husband, 
pays  sixteen  or  seventeen  ounces'  freight 


The  Desert 

on  the  girl  and  her  maid.  The  girl  turns 
Christian.  Who  loses  the  freight?" 

"  I,"  said  Abdullah,  and  he  placed  an 
other  bag  upon  the  table. 

"Take  it,"  said  Mirza,  and  the  oukil 
grasped  it. 

"Let  us  see  this  girl  who  has  kept  us 
all  up  so  late,"  said  Mirza,  and  she  strode 
over  to  Nicha.  Abdullah  put  out  his  hand 
to  keep  her  off. 

"  You  Ve  won,"  she  said ;  "  why  be  dis 
agreeable?  Let  us  see  what  you  have 
gained  and  I  have  lost,"  and  she  stripped 
the  veil  and  the  outer  garment  from  the 
girl,  who  sat  passive.  When  the  veil  and 
the  burnoose  fell,  the  beauty  of  the  girl 
filled  the  room  as  would  a  perfume. 

The  commandant  and  the  lawyer  sat 

speechless,  gazing.  The  oukil  wrung  his 

hands  and  exclaimed:  "What  have  we 

lost!"  Abdullah  stood,  proud  and  happy. 

[  206  ] 


The  Desert 

The  corporal  at  the  door  shifted  his  feet 
and  rattled  his  side-arms,  and  Mirza 
laughed.  Then  she  stepped  back  a  pace; 
the  laughter  died  upon  her  lips,  and  her 
hands  flew  to  her  bosom. 

"Little  one,"  she  said,  "the  life  you 
would  have  lived  with  me  would  not 
have  been  so  hard  when  one  remembers 
what  the  life  of  woman  is,  at  best.  It  is 
to  amuse,  to  serve,  to  obey.  You  are  too 
young  to  understand.  You  are,  perhaps, 
fourteen?" 

"Yes,"  said  Nicha. 

"When  I  was  fourteen,"  said  Mirza, 
"I  too  was  beautiful;  at  least  my  hus 
band  and  my  mirror  told  me  so.  There 
is  something  in  your  face  that  reminds 
me  of  the  face  I  used  to  see  in  my  glass, 
but  when  one  grows  old,  and  I  am  eight- 
and-twenty,  one  is  sure  to  see  resem 
blances  that  do  not  exist.  How  prettily 


The  Desert 

they  have  dressed  you!  Did  Ilderhim, 
your  father,  give  you  these  silks  and  these 
emeralds?" 

"Yes,"  said  Nicha. 

"  If  you  are  hoping  to  be  a  good  wife," 
said  Mirza,  "you  must  not  think  too 
much  of  silks  and  jewels.  When  I  was  in 
Paris,  with  the  Grand  Duke,  I  noticed 
that  the  women  who  had  sold  themselves 
had  taken  their  pay  in  pearls  and  dia 
monds.  The  honest  women  went  more 
soberly.  I  see  you  are  of  the  old  tribe  — 
the  tribe  of  Ouled  Nail.  Let  me  see  your 
name." 

She  raised  the  filigree  medallion  that 
hungupon  Nicha's  upperarm.  Shelooked 
at  the  tattooed  crest,  started,  drew  her 
hand  across  her  eyes,  looked  again,  and 
fell  to  trembling.  She  stood  a  moment, 
swaying,  and  then  she  staggered  to  the 
commandant's  table.  She  rested  one  hand 


The  Desert 

upon  it  and  with  the  other  she  began 
playing  with  Ali's  knife.  Her  face  was 
gray  but  her  lips  were  pitifully  smiling. 
"Monsieur  the  Chancellor,"  she  said, 
each  word  a  sob,  "you  need  no  longer 
delay  the  civil  marriage.  —  I  consent  to 
it.  —  This  is  my  daughter.  —  It  seems," 
she  added,  in  a  whisper,  "that  Allah  has 
not  altogether  forgotten  me.  —  He  has 
saved  my  child  from  me."  And  with  an 
exceeding  bitter  cry  she  went  out. 


The  End 


A     000  820  562     7 


